Mass Effect: Cultivation
by Sigyn2011
Summary: This occurs before Anderson and Shepard serve on the SSV Normandy, just after Shepard led his famous raid on Torfan. There will be an appearance of a certain character from ME2 that Shepard becomes romantically involved with later on in the novel. **Nudge, nudge**. How did Anderson and Shepard come to be friends?
1. Chapter 1

Mass Effect: Cultivation

**A/N**-WARNING! Since this chapter will focus a lot more around military personnel, in general, you will find many derogatory terms towards women and various other types of groups. If you are the type of person to become offended by those pejoratives, I would suggest that you not continue on any further. These are marines who are talking; they are not necessarily known to have the cleanest mouths or be politically correct. I have not rated this an M because I don't graphically go into detail about violence or sexuality, but if need be, I will change it. You have been warned. Happy reading!

Chapter One

Alliance Veteran Affairs Hospital

Elysium, Vetus cluster, Petra Nebula, October 10, 2178, 1722h

"That's another strike out for Kenshin Takeda," the vid screen's announcer droned. "Yes, sir, the Red Sox have _really_ made that rookie pitcher from Japan soar to fame. Looks like the Rays might not win this one after all. They had a solid lead from the start, but as we now head into the bottom of the eighth inning, I don't know…"

A month after the raid, Shepard's ears were still ringing from the gunfire on Torfan. He watched the game with a few fellow marines in the hospital's rec room but winced when the baseball game went to a commercial. _I don't care what anybody says. Those damned networks DO turn up the volume for the advertisements_, he thought and stuck his fingers into his ears to try and cut out the pain. A fellow soldier that was sitting next to him on the couch had control over the remote; noticing his plight, he proceeded to relieve Shepard of it by muting the audio.

"Thanks," Shepard said and removed his fingers from his ears.

"No problem," the veteran nodded.

"What're you in for?"

"Took a bullet to the kneecap. Nobody could get to me with medi-gel in time, so," the soldier drew Shepard's attention to his truncated leg.

"Damned Batarians; sorry to hear that."

"That's okay. Docs say that at least I'll be able to walk again with a prosthetic limb. Who knows, after some physical therapy, maybe I'll be able to run and catch my son again in a game of tag in a few months? Shit, my problems are _nothing_ compared to the marines in the past. Back in the 20th century, there's no way in hell that it'd be possible for me to do anything more but hop around on a pair of crutches. No medi-gel. All they had was alcohol, soap, or disinfectant. Then they had to bandage every single open wound."

"Yeah, medical science is pretty miraculous these days," Shepard noted with a nod.

"Hey, I think I've seen your face around. Aren't you the Butcher of Torfan?"

"That he is," said a deep voice from behind the couch. Both marines whirled around to observe a black man of medium height in Alliance regulation dress blues heading for them. He removed his hat and reached a hand towards Shepard. "And the Alliance is damned proud of your service, Lieutenant."

"Captain Anderson, sir, to what do I owe this honor?" Shepard arose and gave him a salute.

David Anderson gave a short chuckle, returned the salute, and extended his hand out to the junior officer again. "Please, Shepard, have a seat. Can I have a moment of your time, son?"

"Is this an official visit, sir?" Shepard inquired and finally shook Anderson's hand. He glanced at the wounded vet next to him, who turned the sound back on but turned the level way down.

"Well, let's just say that I came to see what all the fuss was about with the only N7 graduate to _ever_ beat my time on the Norton course at the ATA in Lowell City," Anderson gave him a smile. "And your record has yet to be beaten. Major Lloyd still speaks very highly of you."

"It's only because I won a bet that he had some cash on. And the odds weren't in my favor, I guess," Shepard shrugged. "So lining your superior officer's pockets tends to brighten his or her day long enough to remember your name with a smile. And after that day, he still called me a fuck chop."

"Lieutenant, I'd like to speak with you off of the record." Anderson placed his hat onto a coffee table in front of them and sat in a reclining chair beside the couch.

"Sir, if it's possible, would you mind if I kept an eye on the game?" Shepard's gaze flickered over to the entertainment in front of him, then back over to the captain.

"Not at all, Shepard. Like I said, this isn't an official visit. I'd just like a few minutes of your time."

"It's your nickel, sir."

"I read over what happened to your unit on Torfan, Shepard. You sacrificed your squad mates' lives to get into that bunker full of Batarians. But what you did saved a helluva lot more, and you got the job done."

"Yeah, I have to thank those bastards for the tinnitus that I've now got as a result of those actions, as well as a bunch of fresh graves that I've now got to visit and deliver these." Shepard dug into his pocket to pull out nine dog tags and casually tossed them onto the coffee table next to Anderson's hat. "You still wanna call those heroic actions, sir?"

Anderson leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg on top of the other. "I can see that you're hurting, son, and that's normal. But quitting the Alliance isn't the answer to your problems." He picked a small pin off of the many medals that decorated his dress uniform and gave it to Shepard so that he could look at it.

Shepard raised the decoration up to the light to study the five pointed star and the gold oak leaves that surrounded it. "What was this piece of chest candy for, Captain?"

"A little reconnaissance mission that I did back in the First Contact War. That scouting trip went TARFU, in other words, from bad to worse." He collected the pin back from Shepard and pocketed it. "My partner and I, Sam, who was my best mate from boot camp were sent to scout out a Turian supply line just before dawn. We had to make our way through a nasty hot and humid swamp full of dangerous creatures that neither of us had ever seen before. The stench of that place reminds me of about a gross of rotten eggs that I found in a closet once when I had KP during bootcamp."

"Sounds nice compared to crawling over twenty dead and rotting Batarians." Shepard relaxed his posture into the couch and sat back with one arm crossing over the back of it. "Or burning human flesh. So what went wrong, sir?"

"Some kind of creature that looked like a snake but had legs like a centipede and antennae spat out some poison from its fangs at us. It hit Sam right in the eyes, blinding him right then and there. I was able to cover my own, so it only nailed me on my hand, but it still hurt like a sonuvabitch. I had two anti-venom kits on my belt, administered one to myself, and gave the other to Sam, not that it did much for him."

"You couldn't call for help," Shepard agreed. "Turians were that close to your position?"

"Hmm, right down our necks, and dawn was coming quickly. I had to leave Sam behind right then and there to complete the assignment. When I got back to him, there was nothing I could do. He'd already bought the farm."

"What about the intel?" Shepard asked and shifted himself onto the cushion.

"I got it, all right, and it paid off. But I'd rather be able to talk to Sam today than wear this little thing on my chest next to the fruit salad instead." Anderson pulled out the decoration and then reinstalled it next to the several other commendations just above his left breast pocket. "Was there anyone in your unit you got along with?"

Shepard shrugged. "Ragtag bunch. My CO, Major Kyle put four FNGs in my squad."

"Four FNGs?" Anderson raised an eyebrow. "For a mission like that? Were they at least at the top of their class?"

"Hell if I know. They followed me into that bunker anyhow." Shepard uncrossed his legs and stuck a booted leg onto the coffee table. "Not sure if my CO was intentionally putting me into a cluster fuck or what, but it happened, regardless. I never had a problem with him."

"Were any of them N7s like yourself?"

"Nope, just me." Shepard's leg twitched, and it caused him to accidentally kick Anderson's hat off of the table. "Shit, sorry, sir." He sprang up from the couch, but Anderson pushed him back, got up, and picked up the hat himself. "Won't happen again."

"It's all right, son." He patted Shepard on the back and put the cap back on. "Let me ask you something, Shepard. What was on your mind when you finally got into that bunker?"

"Something like why the hell am I the only one here? And who the fuck's got my six? I can't remember much more, sorry, sir," Shepard said and scratched the back of his neck.

"That's what I thought."

"Sir?"

"You weren't thinking 'what the fuck do I do now'? Or I'm not gonna make it. You went on, Lieutenant. You went on even though everyone else went down."

"And now I'm hearing that my CO's gone AWOL."

"N7s are the best, Lieutenant. We accept nothing less, you know that. But just because someone you once looked up to is gone doesn't give you the right to quit." Shepard remained taciturn and turned his head back to the ballgame.

"The Alliance still needs soldiers of action like you, Shepard. We care about you, son; we want to help you through this." After about another thirty seconds, Shepard finally turned his head back towards Anderson. "Sleep on it, Lieutenant."

"I haven't been sleeping; that's why I'm doing this," Shepard spat. "Sir."

"Then understand that one day, it'll get better if we work it out and talk."

"I'll think about it, Captain, sir." The younger marine arose from the couch. Anderson couldn't read his facial expression; the soldier wore a true poker face. "Wanna join me for some chow? It's not too bad here."

Anderson smiled. "I have a better idea, if you're up for it. My car's outside in the parking lot. Pick a place you wanna grab some grub, and I'll pick up the tab. Or rather," he chortled, "the Alliance will."

Shepard returned his grin and held up two fingers about an inch apart. "In that case, sir, I'll go anywhere that's got porterhouse twelve ounce steaks this thick."

"I know a place that'll hit the spot. Come on."

Shepard collected the dog tags from the coffee table, shoved them into his fatigue pockets, and followed Anderson out the hospital's front door.

Orbit of Theshaca, Hong cluster, Armstrong Nebula System

SSV Hong Kong, Crew Mess, November 20, 2178, 0729h

After a few more encouraging visits with Anderson at the VA hospital on Elysium, Shepard did indeed reconsider his resignation from the Alliance. In fact, Anderson liked the younger soldier so much that he had requested Shepard to be assigned to the current vessel under his command, the SSV Hong Kong. When Shepard first stepped onboard the Hong Kong, there were very few fellow marines who would approach him. His reputation had already become a legend in the Alliance apparently. As soon as he stepped into a heavily populated area with his colleagues, the conversations would cease or immediately lower in volume.

If there were any women in the area, several heads would turn or give him more than a once over. Shepard was an extremely comely man. His eyes were a light brown milk chocolate, his hair was a much darker saturation, and his jaw was perfect. His upper teeth had a slight overbite, but it was not visible unless he smiled deeply. When he did smile or perhaps even smirk, there was always a playful hint that followed through with his eyes. The first woman that he had ever made love to told him that she could lose herself in them for hours.

The muscles underneath his Alliance fatigues suggested that he was well-built but not overly beefy like some marines. He worked out when it was necessary to keep himself in shape, but he was not so vain as to spend so much time in the gym. Shepard preferred to socialize with his colleagues over a drink or perhaps watch a sport game.

He actually had to initiate conversations himself most of the time with them, but eventually, he found some camaraderie with one soldier named Albert Beckett. Beckett was a first-class serviceman or a corporal who was quiet unlike most of his colleagues. He preferred to read or listen to classical music by himself when he wasn't working out or on duty, but he made Shepard swear not to tell anyone else that. Doing either of those two things still would ostracize you from your comrades in the marines. Beckett encouraged his superior officer to do so; he found that having an intelligent conversation with a woman can actually score more points than just having stripes, showing off scars, or telling another hometown hero story. At the time that Beckett first mentioned it, Shepard rolled his eyes and waived him off.

But recently after some shore leave, Shepard watched Beckett in action with a woman. It was all too true. Shepard was indeed better looking than Beckett. After the three of them had met, Shepard excused himself to give them a chance to be alone. However, he kept a very tight eye upon the two of them from a distance. She was so attuned to Beckett that she stared at nothing but him the entire time.

As Shepard waited for his turn to be served in the lineup, he hugged an empty tray to his side and studied the words upon his data pad with complete interest. He was currently reading the novel "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms" by Luo Guanzhong, a 14th century Chinese author from Earth. Although the novel was a three part volume that was several thousands of pages long, it was actually based upon the tumultuous history that occurred during the Han dynasty period. The vocabulary in it went a little over his head, but thankfully, he also had a dictionary on that data pad as well. And it was completely fascinating.

China was always a powerful country, and in the 21st century, its might soared even higher as it went through an industrial revolution. Some historians even argued that its economy rivaled the United States of America. It quickly became the leader of the Asian Union and contributed heavily to the Systems Alliance several years later.

"Hey, Fuck Stick, move it or lose it," said a rather impatient voice behind Shepard.

Only one other marine on the Hong Kong was not intimidated by Shepard in the least; that was Staff Lieutenant W.F. Sanders. W.F. was senior to Shepard by two ranks and was hinted to have a relation to the infamous Admiral Jon Grissom, but no one dared to publicly discuss how he moved up the chain of command. He was known to have an extremely short fuse, and he loved to pick on his underlings.

Shepard tore his eyes away from the data pad, trudged forward towards the mess sergeant, and bravely raised his tray up to the man. "Sorry, sir. I didn't realize that you were that anxious to try whatever new science experiment Simpson's been growing here," he quipped with a smile.

"Keep moving along, wise ass," Simpson barked after he served Shepard.

"Turning into quite the book worm, aren't ya?" Sanders shot back. "Trying to score with the bum chums?" He shoved his tray under Simpson's ladle.

"Why? You looking for any tips, sir?" Shepard smirked.

Before Sanders could shoot off another insult, Anderson's voice came in over the ship's P.A. "The briefing for our up and coming mission will be in fifteen minutes, marines. All hands on duty are required to attend."

Fifteen minutes later, all marines filed into the briefing room that was located upon the navigation deck of the Hong Kong. There was no need for the superior officers to remind their juniors as to who would sit in a chair. It was an unspoken rule.

Anderson was dressed in his fatigues and removed his hat as soon as everyone had sat down or taken a knee. All conversations dwindled down into a whisper, and then eventually nothing as they realized that their captain was about to address them. "Yesterday, I know that I had said that we were going to send out a recon team this morning down to that moon, Arkham. But that will no longer be necessary."

A great majority of the marines all looked at one another with puzzled expressions; no one seemed to know anything about this. So they all returned their attention to their commander.

"The situation has changed for the better, though, marines, don't worry," Anderson announced proudly with a beam. He activated an omni-tool to show his crew some holographic images upon a vid screen to prove his point. "These come from inside the base of the pirates we were planning to strike. As you can see, we've got lots of tight corners and places to get blind-sided. There's no doubt that they'll all have modded ammo, so remember that when you're going through prep. We're still going to strike them, but, ha ha, now we've got an advantage."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" W.F. Sanders asked and lifted a hand while Anderson had paused in his speech.

"What is it, Sanders?"

"How much can we trust this whistle blower?"

"That information is on a need-to-know basis, Staff Lieutenant. You'll be addressed of the situation when necessary," Anderson shook his head 'no' with a curt reply. "Now the assault will occur later this afternoon. Since we now have some more time on our hands, I want everyone to double and triple check their equipment before heading down to outfitting for any new gear. Budgets for this conflict with the Batarians and these marauders might get chopped if we don't chalk up some more wins soon. The Brass is breathing down_ everyone's_ necks now, and I don't know about you, men, but I'd still like to get my boot shine polish for free," Anderson joked. The rest of the marines all broke out into laughter for a few moments. It quelled when he lifted up his hands. "The Makos will be deployed at about 1500 hours, so that means everyone but a spec op team that I've already selected will need to report down to the shuttle bay half an hour before that. Any other questions?"

"Did the informant have any intel regarding the enemy's resistance, sir?" Corporal Beckett spoke up.

"Those numbers can change upon the minute, Corporal, especially with a bunch of scum like those pirates. So no, nothing solid."

After encountering some more silence, Anderson deactivated his omni-tool. "All crew is dismissed except for Sanders, Shepard, and Beckett," he stated.

When the rest of the marines had cleared out, Anderson signaled the men to come closer, and they all obeyed. "All right, men, now I can be more straight-forward with you. You three will make up that spec op team that I just mentioned."

_No shit Sherlock_, Shepard thought. He crossed one leg on top of the other.

"Our inside man is actually an Asari who contacted the Alliance brass because she was sick of seeing how merciless the rest of her crew members have become. They've turned into slavers as well. Not only do they traffic red sand but also smuggle spoiled eezo in and out of the Terminus systems and the Attican Traverse. She claims that she went into this career to just make money and travel, but now she can see that these guys are bad news. They're now terrorists," Anderson explained.

"What's her name?" Sanders inquired.

"There's more to the story, Sanders. You wanted to know if this whistle blower can be trusted, so I'm informing you of that matter now."

"Apologies for the interruption, Captain. It won't happen again."

"Good. Now, these pirates have made some kind of deal with a human organization to detonate a ship with this eezo on it over a heavily populated human colony. Unfortunately, we don't know where that is, but we intend to stop them even before that grisly mission can even take place. This human organization promised to pay the scumbags heavily in return."

"Trying to make more human biotics, huh? That doesn't sound suspicious at all," Shepard huffed. "Goddamned bastards."

"Shut your pie hole, Lieutenant," Sanders growled. "We don't need the commentary."

"Easy, there, Sanders. You don't need to jump down Shepard's throat," Anderson gently rebuked his subordinate and leaned onto the back of a chair with his hands. "Now, the three of you will penetrate a section of the facility that our little helper has yet to disclose. Her name is Celeste T'Simoni, by the way. I'm expecting to hear from her in about two hours from now; she is setting the plans in motion as we speak. Questions?"

"What kind of plans does she have in the works, sir?" Shepard asked.

"Some type of non-violent distraction. She says that she'd rather leave the heavy lifting for us. The Asari are well known for their expert tactics of sabotage and infiltration."

"Not to mention the finest bodies for a man to look at," Sanders commented with a sly smile. "Shit, I don't think that there's one that I haven't met that isn't hot."

"They also value intelligent conversation," Beckett whispered to Shepard and gave him a wink.

"What was that, Corporal?" Anderson demanded.

"Nothing related to the mission, sir. Apologies," the corporal quickly returned.

"Anything more, men?" They all shook their heads, and Anderson retrieved his hat from where he had previously set it. "Dismissed."

Beckett and Sanders exited the briefing room, but Shepard stayed behind. He arose and approached Anderson. "Sir, can I ask you a question off of the record?"

"I keep an open door policy, Lieutenant. Shoot."

"Would it be disrespectful of me to ask a little about Staff Lieutenant Sanders' service record? Or his background? I've been hearing some scuttlebutt around the showers, and well…before we head out…-" Shepard ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"You want to know what kind of a man he _really_ is, not just who he says he is, Shepard, I get it," Anderson replied with a nod. "Trust me when I say that he's earned his rank, just like you. He isn't an N7 like either of us, of course, but, well, some of that scuttlebutt you've been hearing is right. He is related to Admiral Grissom, but like I said, his title is well deserved for his service to the Alliance thus far."

"Okay, sir. I just wasn't sure that…I mean, I know what I have to do and what's expected of me, Captain, but-"

"You don't like being blind. Then think of Sanders as an extension of my hand leading you around that battlefield, Shepard. I'm not Major Kyle, but I'll do my best to measure up to him."

"No, sir, you're not. You're better."

Anderson gave him a large smile and raised an eyebrow at him. "So, Lieutenant, have you ever met an Asari before?"

"No sir. First time for me," Shepard answered him and shook his head.

The black man gave a soft chuckle. "You're in for a pleasant surprise, then, Shepard. Don't let it become a distraction, and let me tell you, the temptation will be extremely difficult to resist."

"I won't, Captain." Shepard came to attention, gave him a final salute, and left.

**A/N** If the military slang is too difficult to follow, I will revise this chapter again and change it. Please let me know what you think. In later chapters that I've already drafted, I've toned it down quite a bit more. But if this is still too difficult to follow, please by all means, let me know. Feedback is much appreciated. The appearance of Miranda is not until later, but I'm sure it will be pretty obvious when I post the next chapter how she will fit into the story


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Arkham, Hong cluster, Armstrong Nebula

Just outside the pirate base, November 20, 2178, 1539h

A day on Arkham was extremely short. The planet that it orbited, Theshaca, had the equivalent of a fourteen hour day upon Earth, so it was likely that within an hour, they would feel the blast of a cold wind. Although each marine wore body armor, not everyone could afford to put an air conditioner or a heater inside of his or her suit. Shepard's last wise investment with his latest couple of paychecks from the Alliance went towards those upgrades. He was extremely glad that he did; all Corporal Beckett could complain about during the last fifteen minutes on the radio was about how goddamned hot it was on the moon. Sanders proceeded to tell him to suck it up and take his balls outta his pockets; then he followed up his insult with the news that the temperature would cool down eventually.

The atmosphere was much like Earth's, with about a slightly higher ratio of nitrogen to oxygen, so it was very breathable. Helmets were not needed for oxygen but would serve as extra protection. As they jogged towards their destination, Sanders held up a hand to halt their party.

"The asari said that she'd meet us outside on the east side of the base. Let me take a look here." He removed the sniper rifle from the gun rack on his back, extended the barrel, and closed one eye as he peered through the scope. "Huh. Okay, I see two people walking around but, I'm not sure if they're asari or not."

"They look pretty much just like human women except for the blue skin tones and that weird tentacle like hair, right?" Shepard asked Beckett, who nodded. "Have you ever touched that stuff before?"

"Nope. Doing that is being pretty forward in their culture. It'd almost be like the equivalent of grabbing a lady's breast," he replied.

"No it's not," Sanders argued and gave Beckett a dismayed frown. "I'd say that it's just like going for a chick's hair. And don't tell me that neither of you clowns haven't grabbed any tits in your lifetime."

"That's respectful," Beckett muttered under his breath. "Bet he tries to shove his dick down a woman's throat before even kissing her." Shepard heard him but only smiled in response.

"Got something you wanna share, butt pucker?"

"No, sir."

"Didn't think so. Ah, good. One of them is going back inside now, and the other just took off her helmet. I wish the Captain had been able to get us a holo of this babe so that we'd know for sure; all of them can look so much alike from a distance."

"Did Anderson tell you what she'd exactly be doing to get our attention?" Shepard finally inquired.

"Mind your protocol, Lieutenant," Sanders hissed. "And the Captain said that she'd…be doing what she is right now. Never mind, stay frosty, let's move out and make contact with our inside source." He exchanged his sniper rifle for his assault rifle, and his squad mates took out their preferred weapons. Beckett went for a silenced pistol, Shepard withdrew a shotgun, and they stealthily made their way over to their informant.

"Good; you're here. I was wondering how much longer you'd be. My distraction will probably only keep my former crew members' attention for another fifteen minutes," Celeste stated for a greeting. Like a typical Asari, she had markings all over her face. These tribal stripes were amber, and her skin tone was a light lavender. Three equally spaced horizontal lines went across both of her cheeks and one set of three vertical lines ran down her chin.

Shepard was completely stunned; Anderson was not kidding about the fact that the Asari could become distractions towards _anyone_. He could not help himself as he sized her body up and could only imagine that Celeste would have the same kind of curves as a human female would. The armor surrounding her body did not give much of her figure away, but it did certainly hug her bust line and accentuate it. The term beauty was not quite enough to describe her to Shepard.

Her eyes studied her newly found allies and swept over each team member with a fleeting glance. "Will your colleague be all right?" she asked Beckett as her eyes flickered quickly back to Shepard.

"Oh, him?" Beckett grinned and elbowed Shepard, who seemed to forget that he was gawking. He suddenly winced upon the blow and came out of his trance. "He's just never seen an Asari before. There's a first time for everything, you know."

"Sorry, Miss. I uh…" One of Shepard's hands came away from his shotgun and stretched out towards her. "That was extremely rude of me. Please accept my apologies. Lieutenant Shepard."

Celeste merely stared back at the hand he offered, and Beckett stole this opportunity to insert his into hers since he was indeed closer. He showed her what Shepard's intention was, and her frown disappeared. "_That's_ what that meant," she mused. "It was a greeting of some sort. And you would be?"

"Corporal Beckett. The honor is mine." He went so far as to lift her gloved hand up to his lips to kiss it, and Sanders slapped his hand away.

"Quit that shit, dirt bag. This isn't some tea party we've been invited to. Now let's get going; we're running out of time," Sanders snapped. "I'm the OIC here, Simon, and the name's Sanders." Shepard affixed a knife to the muzzle of his shotgun.

"Quite right, Sanders." Celeste secured her helmet over her cranium and nodded. "Everyone has just finished their evening meal. Unfortunately, not all of my mates consume alcoholic beverages, so that option was not viable. I did what I could to some of their drinks, but not everyone's judgment will be compromised. So that is why you will hear some loud music in the background as we go inside." She typed a security code into the LCD touch screen pad and ushered them into the base.

"What can we expect for numbers?" Shepard asked as they followed her down a dark corridor.

"I'm sorry?" she turned her head backward to glance at them.

"Tangos," Sanders clarified for her.

"Are you asking how many enemies you expect to encounter?"

"That's the gist of it," Beckett nodded.

"I see. Right now, there are eight sentries on duty, two of them cover each entrance to the base. We will come upon two of them shortly."

"Miss, am I right in remembering that you didn't want to kill any of your fellow crew members?" Shepard wondered. "Captain Anderson said that you-"

Before he could finish his question, she held up a hand to silence him and stopped dead in her tracks. She hugged herself around a corner, and the other three men lined themselves up on the opposite one. Shepard was the closest one to her; he removed a tiny mirror from his weapon belt and held it up slightly. Two asari were standing there talking to one another; they were oblivious to the company that was present behind them.

Without another second to lose, Celeste sprang out of her hiding place, snapped one of their necks, and Shepard quickly shoved his shotgun into the other's back. It made contact with the armor that the pirate wore but did not penetrate it completely. He shoved both himself and his asari captive with a biotic charge into the opposite wall. Only then did she become totally impaled upon it. As Shepard shoved her dead body off of his shotgun, he saw the beginning of a smile come across Celeste's lips. "Creative. What did you say that your name was again?" she asked.

"Shepard." He stiffened and gripped his weapon with both hands.

"I won't forget it." She lifted an eyebrow upward in curiosity and motioned to the rest of the team that it was clear.

"Thought you said that you weren't going to be doing any heavy lifting," Sanders remarked as he took the lead just behind their new ally.

"I won't. There are turians and krogans in here, too," she shook her head. "So you'd better prepare yourselves for some serious fighting. I'll assist you to the best of my abilities, but don't be surprised if I distance myself from the skirmish."

"We're packing some major heat; don't worry. And the rest of our forces are waiting for our signal."

"We're gonna be fighting against krogans?" Shepard inquired and glanced at Beckett.

"First time for that, too? Have we swapped files or something, sir?" Beckett demanded.

"Cut the small talk, marines, and focus," Sanders commanded.

"Approximately sixty bodies await their deaths once we come closer to their den. Five Asari civilians that are currently providing the entertainment know about my plan. As soon as they see us, they know to continue for at least one or two more minutes. How long will it take for your backup to get here?" she asked.

"Five minutes or less."

"You'd better call them now. We're getting closer," Celeste advised him. The music grew exponentially louder; they no longer had to creep down the passage. Sanders contacted Anderson to give him the green light over the radio.

"We could also wait another moment or so, sir," Shepard suggested.

"That's not an option, Shepard," the asari shook her head 'no.' "We've only got about one more hallway to traverse, and I don't want to put those girls in danger any more than they already are. They are armed with pistols and can defend themselves, but as you'll see, they won't exactly be wearing body armor."

"Or anything else," Sanders noticed as they came to the base's inner sanctum. Two armed turians with assault rifles flanked the ten foot wide door that was open. They appeared to also be unaware of the intruders' presence and unfortunately kept their eyes upon the show occurring in front of them instead of a proper vigil. Just in front of the turians were stacks of crates on palettes; they were either full of loot or element zero.

Several canisters with the universal fire hazard logo were also scattered about the room. There were plenty of ways to dispose of the pirates in here. However, they also had to worry about the safety of Celeste's allies. The stage performers all gave nods towards Celeste as they noticed her and continued their sensual movements. Both Shepard and Beckett were completely entranced by the naked but gorgeous creatures that were approximately thirty feet from them. It was quite a sight to behold.

The Asari's bodies swayed elegantly to the electronic beat. One came into the audience to further interact with the crowd. Shepard swore that she was making eye contact with him and not the human male that she crept onto. She straddled him from the front and ground her hips directly onto the criminal's lap. A cerulean glow emanated from her body and she gyrated herself onto the man.

Shepard could imagine exactly what he was thinking and instinctively licked the top of his lips with the tip of his tongue. The kick drum from the house beat caused his heart beat to increase, and although his ears were beginning to ring, he ignored the pain. The show that he was witnessing and nearly feeling was blocking it out.

"All right, grunts, let's go get 'em. Back up's nearly here. We can get this show on the road," Sanders told them. "Move out."

Beckett heard him, but unfortunately, Shepard did not. He was still in a daze, and even though Sanders yelled his name out twice, that did not break his concentration. Celeste gently activated her biotics and laid two bare fingers upon the back of his neck that was exposed. His head suddenly snapped back towards her, and he gave his superior officer an apologetic look. "Get your goddamned jarhead in the game, Mister Fucking N7," Sanders barked, grabbed Shepard by the helmet, and shoved it into the wall. "How the hell did you get that commendation anyway? Five pairs of jugs shouldn't get in between you and the mission."

Shepard's anger swelled, but his eyes did not reveal it to Sanders. "CFB, sorry, sir."

"You can make up for it later, fuck stick. Let's go," the marine groused. They inched their way closer to the turians, and Beckett fired off two perfect head shots into their heads. Once they were taken care of, the four of them moved up behind the containers and crouched down. "Nobody's armed. Now's our chance," Sanders stated with a cocky grin. He was about to break cover until Shepard placed his hand onto Sanders' gauntlet.

"I'd recommend that we stand by until Anderson gets here, sir. I wanna move, too, but there's not much room for us to maneuver here. This room will bottleneck us, and we don't know if there are weapons near by."

"He's right, Sanders," Celeste agreed with a nod. "There is a cache in that corner over there." She pointed to a darker section of the large room. "I can lay down a field of singularity, but I've never trapped more than five enemies in it at once."

"And I can also make a shockwave, but it'll only knock the tangos off of their feet," Shepard continued.

"Beckett, how many do you figure that you can incinerate with your omni-tool?" Sanders demanded of the engineer.

"I can widen the field, but it'll lessen the damage," the corporal replied in a matter of fact tone.

"And we've got non-combatants to worry about," Sanders said and bit his lip. "Shit-we're really limited here. Anderson, sir, where are you?"

"Just entering the hideout now and making our way down the corridors to you," came Anderson's answer.

"Looks like they're wrapping things up," Sanders shook his head. "We're FUBB here, Captain, can you all make double time?"

"Negative. Either come up with a new distraction or wait for us, Sanders!"

The superior officer sighed and pulled a grenade off of his belt. Celeste's eyes filled with worry, and he stripped the pin away from it. "Don't worry. Tear gas," he told her as he noticed her expression. "Won't hurt them. Follow my lead, jar heads."

"Understood, sir," both marines acknowledged him.

Sanders lobbed the grenade into the middle of the crowd, and the four team mates scattered. The action all became one giant blur to Shepard as the crowd dispersed, coughing upon their hands and knees. The closest enemy to him was a krogan, but the alien was unarmed. Well, at least Shepard thought that he had no weapon. He accumulated as much of his implant's strength as he could and lunged forward towards the krogan. Soon thereafter, Shepard realized that this was perhaps not the brightest thing to do.

The reptilian being in front of him only became angry. "Rarrh! Did your mother drop you on your head, boy?" the krogan yelled at him at the top of his lungs. Shepard never got the chance to reply as he felt the krogan bash his own head against his chest and crush him into a container. "You must be wishing for an early death, human!"

The house music continued to play, and someone eventually found the weapons cache that Celeste spoke of, because a stray shot from a gun someone had fired went into the lights above them. Now the fluorescent lights began to pulse non-rhythmically like a non-responsive strobe light. Shepard became completely disoriented, and thankfully, his reflexes allowed him to see the krogan try to charge upon him again. This time, he lined up his shotgun with the krogan, and the beast slammed himself into the knife. He also received a buckshot blast from the weapon in reward for his actions.

But even after all that, the krogan _still_ didn't go down. He merely hunched over in pain, but Shepard decided to use his brain now, and mashed his hand onto the ground. A mildly large shockwave now sent the krogan off of his feet to his knees. Shepard took this moment to reload his shotgun then pounced upon the krogan before he could get up again. He unloaded his weapon into the krogan's head right between the eyes, and slammed his fist with a biotic wave of energy into his skull. To double check that the krogan was dead, Shepard finally stabbed his shotgun through his chest twice.

Exhausted from his biotic workout, he slumped over the krogan's body on his knees. He wasn't given much time to recover; two turians made their way toward him. Fortunately, for him, he had a guardian angel. Celeste caught their bodies in a wave of singularity and fired her assault rifle at them. He also let loose a few rounds and rolled over to where she was standing behind two tall canisters. "And _that's _why you don't go charging into a krogan," she shouted. "The time you spent wasting your energy on him was time that you could have taken out four of your own kind. Next time, hide and call for help. The krogan are formidable opponents even _without_ guns."

"Thanks," he said with a pant. "That's a lesson I think that I'll definitely remember learning."

"It only takes one time. Luckily for you humans, you have more stamina than the Asari. We don't go against one krogan with fewer than two of us."

By now, Anderson's platoon had arrived and was cleaning house.

"Are your friends okay?" Shepard asked.

"They slipped out a secret passage," Celeste nodded. She briefly left her cover to fire her weapon and glance about the room. "But leaving the base soon would likely be a good idea."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know about you, but fires are quite lethal to my people." The asari signaled his attention to a fuel canister that just tipped over near a sparking electrical outlet. It was about ten feet from their position. "And this room likely has explosives in it."

"_Likely_?" he groaned.

"I didn't have time to do an inventory of the place!" she snapped back.

He arose and activated his mic. "Captain Anderson, there are explosives in this base, sir! I can't confirm how many, but we should GTFO ASAP before there's a major Charlie Foxtrot!"

"Roger that, Lieutenant. All marines, balls to walls full retreat! Tokugawa, stand by with your team's mini-nukes!"

His subordinate gave him an affirmative, and all of the troops began to withdraw, including Sanders and his team. As Shepard rushed down one corridor they did not previously encounter, he heard some screaming. The voices were not adult. He swore that those were human kids crying their heads off. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, and Sanders, who had been behind him, suddenly ran into Shepard. The two of them nearly fell over onto the ground. "What the fuck, LT?" he bellowed.

"Don't you hear that, sir? I think that someone's trapped down there!" He pointed to a room behind both of them that was just off the hallway to their right.

The flames from the fire were now starting to spread throughout this corridor.

"Doesn't matter. We have to get out of here now!" Sanders exclaimed. "Too dangerous."

"But sir!"

"I _said_ that we're leaving here. _Now_." Sanders sheathed his weapon, seized Shepard by his helmet, and stared into his eyes. "You can't save them; there's not enough time."

"There's always enough time," Shepard's eyes narrowed.

"I gave you a goddamned order, Lieutenant."

"Acknowledged, sir." He shoved Sanders away from himself, whirled around, and sprinted down the corridor towards the fire and the wailing children. Shepard tried to kick down the door several times, charged up his implants, and threw himself with all of his might against it. It finally gave way, and he picked himself up off of the floor. Shepard's eyes swept the bunk beds as he looked for the children.

The toddlers both hid under separate beds right next to one another. He raised both arms backward at once and sent forth another biotic blast. The pair of bunk beds flew backward into the wall, and he scooped one child in each arm. "You'll be okay, I promise," he told them both.

"Shepard, what's your 20?" Anderson's voice came in over his radio.

"Had to run back and get some kids. Be out in just a minute, sir," Shepard huffed as he dashed back down the hallway. He narrowly evaded some i-beams that were beginning to collapse in front of him. Sweat poured into his eyes. _Damnit, couldn't there just have been one of you_? he thought and blinked hard to try and lessen the discomfort that he was feeling.

"Damn, I'm sure as hell glad that I just told Tokugawa to stand by. Well done, Lieutenant," Anderson replied. "Everyone else made it out just fine."

Once Shepard was about twenty feet from the base's entrance, Anderson's fire squad launched several shots from their Cains into it. He dumped the kids onto the ground and fell to his knees in complete and utter exhaustion. "Hey, nice job, Shepard," Beckett reassured him. "Think you just got some brownie points with the BAMs round here." He helped his friend up to his feet.

"I think your score just went down, Corporal," Shepard said as he placed a hand over his chest to slow his breathing.

"Nah, they don't mind hearing it from me. I'm no Captain Jack." Beckett removed his helmet and learned closer to Shepard, who did the same. "Besides, about half of 'em all play for the softball team."

"Aw, that wind sure feels good right now." He flung his arms wide open as well as his head backward. As reality dawned on him, Shepard gave his friend an incredulous look. "What? Really? Then why the hell do they all stare at me when I walk into the room?"

"They don't dig our guns, sir. Didn't mean to imply that they don't like the rest of what you've got to offer on the eyes." Beckett jabbed him in the arm. "Come on. I think that Anderson wants to extract us from this place.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Orbit of Theshaca, Hong cluster, Armstrong Nebula System

SSV Hong Kong, Crew Quarters, November 20, 2178, 2010h

"Uh-oh, look out, sir," a female marine warned Shepard as she sidestepped Sanders. Unfortunately, the warning came too late. He grabbed hold of Shepard by his t-shirt with one fist and landed a clean blow right across Shepard's face.

"When I give you an order, ass wipe, you'd better goddamned follow it!" Sanders thundered and tried to strike him again. This time, Shepard evaded the punch by crossing his arms over his face and jumped backward into his bunk. By this time, Sanders had lost his grip.

The rest of the terrified crew members poured out of the accommodations like scared animals. "Now beat your face to that floor until I tell you to stop!"

Shepard complied and started to perform his punishment. About one minute later, he paused for about half a second, and Sanders kicked him in the ribs. "More, fuck stick. I didn't tell you to stop."

Anderson stormed down the stairs from the navigation deck once an ensign reported that he had witnessed this cruelty. "What's going on here, Staff Lieutenant?" he demanded.

"A lesson for insubordination needs to be learned, sir." Sanders turned around to defiantly cross his arms across his large chest and gave his boss a smirk. "And don't slow down, either. Don't think that I can't see you," he said with a glance over his shoulder.

"That's enough. Shepard, get up."

"But Captain, Shepard needs to learn-"

"With pushups or shit patrol, fine. But don't ever strike one of my men again in anger, _Staff Lieutenant_, " Anderson ordered and took a step towards his subordinate. "Or you can kiss your posting on this ship goodbye. I'll make sure that you're stuck ground side on some god-forsaken planet for the rest of your service. I don't care who your father was. Now go walk it off."

Sanders uncrossed his arms, straightened up, and saluted Anderson. "Aye, aye, sir." Shepard arose and came to attention.

"If he ever goes out of line like that again with you, tell me or XO Bose immediately, Shepard. Either one of us will deal with him," Anderson told him as soon as Sanders exited the quarters. "I condone hard discipline, but there's a line to be drawn. At ease, Lieutenant. In fact, let's have a drink. Come on." He led Shepard into the crew mess.

"Aren't you still on duty, sir?"

"Well, I'll have a water while you get a cold one."

Shepard went into the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of beer and tossed a water over to his boss. "So, sir, what's going to happen with the asari, you know, Celeste T'Simoni?"

"Ah, I had a feeling that you might be curious," Anderson said with a chuckle. "Told you that they could be distractions, didn't I?"

"You could say that," the marine admitted and sat down across from him. "That's kind of another reason why Sanders was so pissed off with me. I kind of…uh…was staring at the entertainment longer than I should have like some dumb-assed cadet straight outta the Academy." He twisted the top off and guzzled the drink down. "Then I went and disobeyed a direct order."

"Those kids will be fine, by the way. They suffered a little smoke inhalation, but the doc's got them on O2 right now in the med bay. We'll drop them off on New Canton on the way to Arcturus Station." Anderson gave him a smile. "You did good, son. And just this once, I'm glad that you did disobey that order. Don't make a habit of it, though."

"No sir, I won't. Now about that asari..." Shepard pressed.

Some footsteps from behind the marine as well as the sound of a throat being cleared told him to turn his head around. As soon as he did, he discovered that both he and Anderson were now in the company of Celeste T'Simoni. "What about her?" she finished with a leer.

"Um, um…" he found himself at a loss of words for once. But the manners that his mother had pounded into him from very early on in his boyhood took over, and he immediately stood, as did Anderson. _When a lady walks into a room, you'd better be on your feet in two seconds or less, young man_, her voice scolded him.

"Miss T'Simoni, the Alliance thanks you for your assistance in this mission," Anderson stated with a slight bow forward. "And they would appreciate it if you would personally debrief them upon Arcturus Station regarding this situation with the Milky Way Foundation."

"But of course. You've given me and my people a safe haven for now," Celeste replied and returned his bow. "I hope you don't mind if I explore some parts of your ship. We promise not to venture into any areas your crew deems off limits." She held up her hand to symbolize the promise she just made.

"What's the Milky Way Foundation?" Shepard queried.

"That's what the Alliance brass would like to know, Shepard. It sounds like a front to me, but naturally, we can't go pounding onto their front door and demand that we know that they're up to no good," Anderson told him. "But I can't tell you much more, Lieutenant. The rest of the details are classified, so let's just drop the matter for now."

"Understood, sir," Shepard nodded.

Anderson feigned a glance upon his omni-tool's watch and retrieved his bottle of water from the table. "Pardon my exit, please, but I must go type up a mission report now. Good night."

Celeste sat down at the table across from where Shepard's bottle rested, and he journeyed over towards the refrigerator. "Could I get a drink for you, Miss T'Simoni?" he inquired politely.

"I'll have whatever you're drinking," she announced and gestured towards his beer. Moments later, he came back to the table, opened the bottle for her, and handed the drink to her. Her cool slender fingers made contact with his as she accepted it, and her touch nearly gave him goosebumps.

He withdrew his hand from hers and sank down into his chair. "I uh…hope you can forgive me for that rude incident earlier."

She made eye contact with him as she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. Her eyebrows knitted together with question as she mulled over the taste of the odd beverage she just consumed. "Strange. Is this made from type of grain?"

"Yes, mostly with barley and hops. There are some variants of beer that are also fabricated from wheat as well," he said with a nod. "So, am I forgiven?"

"For your earlier actions, but of course. But for this drink's lack of quality, I should think not." She put the bottle down and pushed it towards him.

He gazed upon the brand that he had randomly selected for her. "Hmm…Coors. Never heard of it before, but the Alliance isn't exactly known for offering gourmet selections of food and drink to its grunts. Would you care to try some of mine? It says…hmm…Miller lite. Maybe it'll taste slightly better."

"I'll take your word for it, Shepard," she shook her head 'no'. "So since you haven't met any of my people before, it's possible that you may have some questions that you'd like to ask. Can I answer any of them for you?"

"Is it true that none of you have to use implants to use biotics?"

"That is indeed a fact. Our genetic code allows us to interact with eezo with relatively no side effects whatsoever, unlike your species. But not all Asari choose to utilize their gifts."

"I don't understand-to potentially have that kind of power upon your fingertips and not want to use it?

"That's very simple. Are there humans that do not know how to pilot a ship or drive a vehicle?" Celeste gently prodded him.

"Of course there are. But it's not necessarily because we don't want to do so. Maybe we'd rather walk or take a transport to our destination instead."

"Precisely; we all choose our own paths. They may be forged for us already and we have yet to find the creator. But like your species, the Asari have different opinions on how life should be lived or spent."

"So how did you come to choose this path? You know, what made you want to become a pirate?" Shepard inquired.

"My, you're quite direct," she commented with a wrinkle in her forehead. "I'd heard that about some humans. Now I know that that rumor is true."

"Sorry, was I being rude?"

"No, just candid. But I'd like to know more about you as well, in due time." Her eyes locked with his, and she leaned her chin upon her hand as she studied him quite intently. "You seem to have been raised with some extremely decent manners, for a human. And you also appear to be much more intelligent than some members of my species have stated."

It was now his turn to frown.

"I am only speaking about my first impressions of you, Shepard. Some of my people claim that the members of your species' profession can be quite empty-headed, belligerent, and quick to lose their tempers."

"Some can also say that of the krogan," Shepard stated and took another swig of his beer. "Or maybe the turians."

"Perhaps. In my culture, to reduce your first impression to a new species by stereotypes alone, it is a great…what is the human expression…faux pas?"

"That sounds about right." He put down his drink. "Now might I ask you about the markings all over your face? Do those represent your families' heritage?"

"You may indeed. They do not; there is no significance to these markings. They are perhaps like your species' birthmarks or…hmm…blemishes?" She attempted to search for a better word.

"Do they appear symmetrically like that? Or can you choose to get them added to your face make them more aesthetically pleasing?" He pointed to her cheeks.

"Well, I…I certainly didn't do so myself." Again, she was taken aback by his frank comments. "But no, they do not always appear symmetrically upon our faces. I…think that I need some time…to process all of this." Celeste stood and exhaled deeply. Shepard wasn't sure if he was embarrassing her or peppering her with too many questions. He suddenly reached out to grab her hand as she began to walk away and caught it. A tiny gasp emitted from her lips in surprise, but she rewarded him with a smile.

"I'd like to speak with you again, if I may, Miss T'Simoni. You know, about the Asari, and yourself…" Shepard pressed.

"Perhaps after I have been questioned by your Alliance, that would indeed be possible. And I would like that as well, Shepard," she said with a wink. He released his hand and after she left, he blew out a gradual but long breath to calm himself down.

His father's words suddenly ran through his head.

_Slow down, tiger_. _Don't go too fast or you'll fall off of the bicycle._

Arcturus Station, Alliance HQ, November 22, 2178, 0904h

The table that five admirals sat at was located upon a platform that would go over any person's head that was not eight feet tall. Captain Anderson knew two of them directly by name: Rear Admiral Steven Kovach, previously of the ATA in Lowell City on Mars and the newly promoted Admiral Steven Hackett, who would very soon assume control over the Fifth Fleet. The rest of the panel, however, was completely unknown to him. As he brought Staff Lieutenant Sanders and Celeste T'Simoni into the room, both Kovach and Hackett gave him silent greetings.

"You and your marines are to be commended for the successful mission upon Arkham, Captain Anderson. Congratulations upon making a new crater on that moon," one of the admirals informed him.

"Thank you, sir. Staff Lieutenant Sanders led an infiltration team with the assistance of Miss T'Simoni here. The mission wouldn't have gone as smoothly as it did without her," Anderson gestured to his companions.

"Tell us specifically what made you contact us," Hackett demanded. "We know that you suspected that your fellow crew members were tangled up in some pretty questionable activities. But the details are now extremely important to the Alliance."

Celeste stepped forward and bowed her head submissively. "But of course; I'll help in any way that I can. One night, before I was about to head out for a breather, I overheard a vid conversation that was occurring in between my captain and a human. That wasn't completely unusual, so I was about to go on about my business until I heard my captain talking about detonating a ship over a human colony by the name of Ferris Fields. She didn't mention the fact that the eezo that she was planning to load onto the ship was contaminated to the human. That's what gave me true concern."

"You said that this human represented the Milky Way Foundation?" Kovach pressed her. "Did your captain mention her name?"

"Yes, I heard the human mention it once or twice. And no, she didn't."

"What did she look like?" Hackett inquired.

"She had a strange inflection to her voice; I've never heard any human talk like that before. I could recognize the accent if I heard it again, but I am sorry that I cannot properly identify it for you. And she had dark brown hair with slate blue eyes."

"So this woman did not know that your captain was intending to fill the ship with tainted element zero?" Kovach wondered.

"That is correct, and later on, I confessed to my captain that I had heard the details of the deal. I expressed my concern over it; not only would this be extremely hazardous to the human colony, but it would also reflect quite poorly upon our organization. She ignored me, and that's when I decided to contact your people," Celeste recollected.

"You've done us a great service, Miss T'Simoni. The Alliance owes you a personal favor; you have but to ask, and you will receive it. Unless of course, that entreaty goes against our policies or morals," Hackett stated.

"It was my pleasure, Admirals. With your permission, my people and I would like to remain aboard your station for a time. I have not had a great deal of contact with your species before, and I am curious to learn more about humans."

The five highly decorated officials glanced upon one another for negative body language or any other silent form of disapproval. Hackett turned toward her finally. "We'll clear it with your embassy, of course, but the Alliance would be more than happy to have you here," he said with a nod. "Building good relations with the Asari as well as any other alien race is a top priority for us. Thank you, Miss T'Simoni, you are permitted to leave."

Simon did not linger inside the great room; she turned upon her heel and left immediately. "Can we ask you to maintain full responsibility for the Asari, Captain?" Kovach inquired. "Or shall we entrust that duty to someone else?"

"It'd be my pleasure, sir," Anderson stated and saluted them all. _I'm sure that I'll have no trouble finding volunteers among the men to be their escorts_, he told himself. As he began to turn his body to leave, another admiral held up his hand.

"FYI, Captain, those children you dropped off on New Canton at the orphanage seem to be doing well. Whom did you say was responsible for their retrieval?"

"That would be my 2nd Lieutenant Shepard, sir."

"We'll be sure to add a little something extra to his stipend this month as a reward. Inform him that any purchase that he makes onboard this station will also be given a 25% discount as well. And your actions have not been overlooked either, Captain. No casualties or significantly wounded parties-very impressive. Be sure to check your stipend as well."

"Thank you, Admirals."

Once they were outside the war room, Anderson slipped his Alliance credit chit over to Sanders. "Deliver this to XO Bose ASAP, Staff LT. I want four cases of some damned good beer and hard liquor delivered to the Hong Kong. Inform Mess Sergeant Simpson that he'll need to clear out some more space in the refrigerator, too. Your assistance with this shopping trip would also be appreciated."

"Aye aye, Captain." Sanders saluted his senior officer. As he left, he brushed by Celeste T'Simoni and gave her a wink. She merely nodded in response, so as not to draw attention to herself.

Shepard sat in a recliner chair with his data pad again, still enraptured by his latest novel. The lounge was relatively empty, save for Anderson, himself, and Celeste. Anderson tapped Shepard on the back, and it wasn't until he actually shook his shoulder that he gave his superior officer his attention. "Oh, sir, excuse me." He dropped the data pad into his lap and was about to stand up to salute him, but Anderson sat down beside him on a nearby couch.

Celeste chose to remain at a distance from the two humans from which she could still overhear their conversation and activated her omni-tool to make a connection to the extranet. Her fingers deftly slid over a window as she glanced in their direction every now and then with mild interest.

"You don't need to get up and salute me every single time I come to talk to you, Lieutenant," Anderson said with a sigh. "I know what kind of protocol was pounded into you by those tight assed drill instructors at boot camp. I probably had some of the same ones you did."

"Then if you don't mind, sir…" Shepard pointed to his data pad, and Anderson gave him a smile.

"Not at all, Shepard, but I have to say that I'm a little surprised. Thought you'd be watching the game here on the vid screen." He gestured his head towards the giant projection of the baseball game that was occurring in between the Baltimore Orioles and the Anaheim Angels. "Or do you not like these teams?"

"Top of the fifth inning, six zip. The Angels are killing the Orioles," Shepard rattled away the scores perfectly just as they came into view on the vid screen. "I cut the sound so I could concentrate better."

"And might I ask what you're reading?" Anderson leaned forward with interest.

"Romance of the Three Kingdoms, by Luo Guangzhong. It was written on Earth about hmm…" he ticked off the numbers on his fingers. "Eight centuries ago. I guess you could call the genre historical fiction. Reading about some of the feats that the heroes in this novel did makes me look like a greenhorn."

"Such as?"

"Well, for one, there was this legendary man whose name alone would send chills down men's spines or make them run for the hills. He rode a horse that had the same kind of rep, too. And one time to settle a dispute between two arguing parties, he claimed that he could split an arrow already in a target in half at one hundred paces. Mind you, this was after the fella had quite a bit to drink, too. If he hit this target, they'd call their argument a draw."

"So what happened?"

"The arrow landed right on its mark, of course," Shepard shrugged. "I'm sure glad that China's part of the System's Alliance. They'd whoop almost anyone's ass to the ground with some of the strategies that I'm reading about in here. The "Art of War" by Sun Tzu is next on my reading list. Some of the men featured in this novel are related to him, I think."

"England at one time had the most powerful Navy in the world. I'm sure that they had some brilliant tactics, too."

"I'll bet."

"I'll let you get back to your novel, then, Shepard. Miss T'Simoni and her friends will likely be staying with us here on Arcturus Station for a time. If I were you, I'd take advantage of some of the skills that the Asari have to offer." When Shepard's forehead crinkled with question, Anderson held up a finger and cleared his throat. "Biotic skills, that is. Anything else is none of my business, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

When Anderson left, Celeste coincidentally deactivated her omni-tool and casually wandered over to Shepard. She took the seat that Anderson had previously occupied and crossed one leg over the other. "So, how long are you gonna be here, Miss T'Simoni?" Shepard inquired and cast his eyes back to his data pad.

"Long enough that you can start calling me Celeste from now on, if you'd like." That comment caused Shepard to instantaneously cease his reading and shove the data pad into a crevice in the recliner. She had his complete attention now.

"Would you care to take a tour of the facilities?"

"Hmm, what about your historical fiction?" Her eyebrows raised in question.

"I'm about to make some history of my own," he gave her a smile. And she swore that she saw his eyes twinkle with intrigue. He stood and offered her his hand. "Well, I mean, for the Alliance. I'm not sure how many Asari have been to this station before."

"I once read a part of a very famous piece of human literature called the Bible. I believe there is a book in it called Proverbs written by a king very long ago. He was incredibly wise. In it, he states that patient persistence pierces through indifference, and that gentle speech breaks down the most rigid defenses."

"Oh, well, I can take no for an answer. Just thought that you might like a personalized trip with perhaps a few valuable tips on areas to avoid during certain times of the day or if you don't like being around too many people." Shepard held up both of his hands and was about to pick up the data pad from the chair until Celeste stood up and reached for his right arm and wrapped both her left arm as well as her right hand around it.

He tried to hide his embarrassment by feigning a cough, but it didn't work very well. She bit back a smile and tapped his arm. "Shall we go now?"

"Sounds good." Shepard confiscated his data pad and carried it at his side and proudly made his way down the hallway with his new companion on his arm. "So who was this wise king?"

"I'm giving _you_ a lesson about human history? Shouldn't it be the other way round?"

"I grew up on a backwater colony. Sue me if my high school didn't cover every single little tidbit of Earth's history," he shrugged.

"Apologies, Shepard." She saw that his temper was beginning to get the better of him. "The right word at the right time is like a custom-made piece of jewelry. And a wise friend's timely reprimand is like a gold ring that's been slipped onto your finger."

"Was that your own wisdom or that king's?"

"That also belonged to King Solomon from Israel. Have you been to your home world before, Shepard?"

"No," he shook his head. As they strolled down the corridor, he received several turns of heads as well as some thumbs up from quite a few marines. Celeste noticed these reactions and turned her head.

"What exactly are your colleagues doing? Are those forms of greetings as well?"

Shepard chuckled nervously and pretended that he didn't notice them. "Let's just say that they're excited that you're here and want to make a good impression on you."

"Oh. Would it be appropriate for me to give the same gesture back to them?"

"Um…" he hesitated and felt the blood drain from his cheeks. A handful of them were now either flipping him off or making other lewd gestures with their fingers. He quickened their pace and directed them down a corridor with less traffic. "The gymnasium is down this way. We've got two weight lifting rooms, a running track, a basketball court, and a swimming pool."

"Is it indoors and heated?" Celeste wondered.

"Yep, but there's no lifeguard," he joked. "Swim at your own risk. So do you Asari, uh, wear bathing suits?"

She laughed through her nose. "What do you think, Shepard?"

_How can I answer that question without sounding stupid or like a misogynist?_ he pondered. Unfortunately, he wasn't given much time, because she pulled on his arm.

"I'm waiting," her voice lowered in pitch.

"I'm gonna need a very cold shower," he mumbled underneath his breath.

"Yes, I've heard that about human male anatomy. I've also heard the phrase 'that's what gets me off' or 'turns me on'. But I've yet to test the veracity of either of those colloquialisms for myself."

He cleared his throat. "I think it'd be best if we uh…avoided that uncomfortable topic, for my sake. We are in a pretty public area."

"We're just talking, Shepard, nothing more."

"I've got a very wild imagination," he admitted and glanced away from her. "And it sometimes runs away with the dish and the spoon."

"Very well, accept my apologies, then. I didn't realize that human males found it difficult to talk about their sexuality," Celeste stated.

"It's a delicate subject when we're discussing it with someone we're not intimate with. Every individual is different. I had this one therapist back at the VA hospital on Elysium that kept dragging sex into _every_ single dream I had shared with him. Now tell me how in the hell does ramming a shotgun's bayonet into a Batarian's four eyes relate to sex?"

"Asari therapists often do the same thing," she nodded. "But enough about that; it's making you far too uncomfortable."

"Yeah. Listen, this may sound like an odd request, but…speaking of comfort levels…would you feel okay with giving me a few lessons? I mean, in regards to biotics? I think that I could learn a lot from someone like you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." She stopped the two of them and examined his face. "There are also some mental techniques that the Asari often use to prepare ourselves to go into battle as well. Would you be interested in learning those as well? I think that they could truly enlighten you."

"That's a hell yes. I'll probably need to eat a very large lunch. That reminds me, let me show you another very important place-it's formally called the commissary. But you'll hear it being called several other things like the mess or dining hall or even the chow factory."

"Your military slang is a completely different language than Galactic," she commented. "And I unfortunately don't have any software on my omni-tool for it. Let's make a deal. You teach me some of your jargon, and I'll do what I can to make you into the best human biotic the Alliance has ever or will ever have."

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" he joked and started to escort her further down the hall. "You're a helluva lot better looking than my first biotic instructor, that's for sure."

"Just how often during the day does the human male brain think about sex?"

"Oh, here we go again," he sighed.

"Be fair, Shepard. You were the one who brought it up, not I."

"So I did. Maybe I'll tell you later after you answer my question about the Asari wearing bathing suits or not." He waggled his eyebrows at her, to which she gave a very healthy laugh and ran her hand along his forearm.

"You're a very intriguing man, Shepard. And oh, _this_ is what hair feels like." She did it again, this time in the opposite direction. It made his skin crawl, especially with how slowly and lightly she was doing it.

"Could you, uh…stop doing that…please?" his voice cracked.

"Why? Does it tickle?"

"No, but remember that piece of human male anatomy you talked about? What you're currently doing to my arm is sending a lot of blood down south to it right this moment. And I'd rather not have to hide the result in front of everyone."

"You're as sensitive as a twenty year old Asari, too. Hmm…I'll keep that information in mind." With that observation, she withdrew her hand and let it fall back to her side


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Nos Astra, Illium, Tasale system, Crescent Nebula

The Milky Way Foundation, November 22, 2178, 1020h

The woman's knee high expensive boots made elongated clicks along the marble as she scaled a rather extravagant set of curved stairs up to her office. She ran her fingers swiftly across a sensor to open the door. The heavy but elegant door slid back to reveal a truly opulent office that would likely make a Wall Street executive gasp. The window behind the desk went from floor to ceiling; it was naturally tinted for privacy.

The bureau itself was fabricated from mahogany and an old fashioned but traditional golden inkwell was the only thing on her desk save the computer terminal with two large touch screen holographic interfacing monitors. A decadent leather executive chair complete with circular brass inlays every two centimeters and two armrests that were made of teak faced the door along with two slightly more modest but nonetheless very comfortable client chairs. There were no picture frames or holos upon this woman's desk; she would not reveal any part of her personal life to anyone. An office has no place for sentimental objects, she once told a client who had asked her why there were none of those items present.

Due to the nature of some of the calls she made or received, unless she asked an assistant to come into her office, he or she was _never_ welcome. That protocol was given upon his or her very first day.

A complete kitchenette hung off to the side of the office, along with a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a range with two burners on it, not that Miranda Lawson made use of it. Her assistant was the one who made and served the coffee or any refreshments that would entice a potential client or investor. Paper or plastic ware was strictly forbidden; not only was it wasteful, but it was also bourgeois.

When Miranda Lawson had a business meeting, everything from the beverages to the appetizers was served upon chinaware. Only cloth napkins were used too, with the Milky Way Foundation's initials monogrammed upon each one. She was pragmatic, though; there was also an automatic dishwasher right next to the refrigerator. Anything used had to be able to run through the dishwasher; she certainly wasn't going to do the dishes nor require her assistant to do that.

She also had a small reserve of alcohol complete with several different types of wine and hard liquor beside the range next to the cupboards. Some wineglasses hung upside down just beneath the cupboards that were suspended from a rack. But she never consumed any of the alcohol for herself while at the office; it was only offered and served to the clients. One very unfortunate human assistant found that out the hard way when he forgot about that and started to pour a glass of Cabernet shiraz into two glasses. Miranda only had to give him a hint of a glare before he realized his error. He knocked both of them onto the floor and not only broke the glasses but also managed to tip over the wine and break that bottle as well. After he cleaned up the mess, she calmly strolled over to him, and told him in a firm but curt tone that after he finished the day, he could go home…permanently.

She wasn't extremely keen upon the fact that her current one was an asari, but she had the most experience and was the best candidate out of all the applicants.

"Lights on; overheads at half intensity," she flatly told the system VI that controlled the office's ambient lighting as well as her rarely used stereo system. "Tungsten daylight, no fluorescents." Her command was instantly obeyed.

An incoming call that was marked 'Operative 14, Alliance HQ, Arcturus Station' upon her omni-tool interrupted her from reading her terminal's influx of messages. She closed her email program and interfaced the omni-tool with her terminal's speakers. "Report," was all she said for a salutation.

"There was an Alliance raid upon a pirate's base on the moon of Arkham, located in the Hong cluster and the Armstrong Nebula. All were killed except for one asari named Celeste T'Simoni, who betrayed her captain. She is now located upon the station here and has informed us about the captain's ties to the Milky Way Foundation."

"How unfortunate."

"Yes, and apparently, this captain that had made the deal was going to detonate a ship with element zero on it over Ferris Fields," the operative went on.

"I'm aware of that."

"Yes, but you might not be aware that the eezo was contaminated."

"No, I was not privy to that information." Miranda's eyes narrowed. That could have created a huge problem and done more damage than good. Perhaps the current situation was for the best. She leaned back in her chair and lay her fingertips across one another as her elbows rested upon the arm rests as she thought about the circumstances.

"The asari will be spending some time upon Arcturus Station. Will it be necessary to dispose of her? She's a loose end that might lead to us."

"I highly doubt that. The Alliance likely destroyed the base, didn't they?"

"Yes, they did."

"Then there's no trace of any calls that occurred between that captain and myself whatsoever. Killing her would be of no use to us. Do keep an eye on her activities of course and inform me of any relationships she might form. If she's got any sort of ties to the Asari government, we could use the information on her as leverage."

"Blackmail, you mean?"

"Possibly."

"Then she could be useful, because she is related to a matriarch that has a top-secret connection to the Asari government. Her heritage also includes some DNA from a highly respected Hanar delegate."

Miranda's fingertips moved against one another rhythmically, and she crossed one leg over the other. "Good work, Operative 14. I'll expect an update upon your activities tomorrow at the same time," she stated and ended the call without so much of a goodbye or a thank you. She wasted no time in typing in an address to uplink her omni-tool's communication channel to an FTL com buoy that directly interfaced with no one save the Illusive Man himself. His image appeared upon her holo screen.

"Operative Lawson," he greeted her with the same kind of formal tone that she kept with her Alliance contact. He accepted his habitual glass of bourbon from a female assistant and gave her a nod of approval.

"We've had a complication with the eezo drop over Ferris Fields."

"I see. What happened?"

"The pirate captain that I had originally selected for this task has been terminated. The Alliance infiltrated their facility thanks to some help from an informant that turned on her. Unfortunately, this asari heard me speaking with her superior and informed the Alliance about the Milky Way Foundation. But there are no direct links of our contact; the base was purged and destroyed." Miranda purposefully omitted the part about the tainted eezo; the Illusive Man didn't need to know about this discrepancy.

"Good. And what of this asari?"

"I told our operative to monitor her relationships while she's present on Arcturus Station; she has some kind of tie to a matriarch in the Asari commandoes and possibly a hanar dignitary as well."

"Yes, it could provide us with an ample influence when the Alliance comes to do some business with the Asari and Hanar governments. The Hanar do maintain a clandestine trading relationship with the Batarians. Little do they know that we know precisely how far down the chain it goes." He smiled. "Excellent work, Lawson. Do you plan to pursue this matter with Ferris Fields any further?"

"I've got a backup plan, sir, and I'll set it in motion right away," she replied noncommittally.

"What does that entail?" He lifted the glass to his lips finally and took a drink.

"I'll board a merchant ship myself, pretend to be an Alliance official that is overseeing some kind of raw material transfer, and gain some trust of the crew just enough that they'll let me near their drive core. Then I'll sabotage it and escape in a small vessel that will meet me just outside of the merchant ship. The contact will be some nondescript smuggler that I can easily sever ties with."

Miranda switched legs and intertwined her fingers as she tried to read over the Illusive Man's expressions. He was terribly hard to read; she rarely had a problem judging other people's body language. It was not the only thing that made her slightly nervous about him. She was the second in charge to him, and she didn't even know his real name nor anything personal about him except that he preferred to listen to electronic music when he was surfing the extranet. And she only knew that tidbit of information because one earbud happened to slip out of his ears once; her augmented hearing picked it up before he reinserted it from where it had fallen.

"Hmm…will you need some assistance with your cover? Cyber division can perfectly draw up some credible paperwork for you in as little as an hour. I have but to give them the word," the Illusive Man finally inquired.

"That won't be necessary, sir," Miranda shook her head 'no'. "I only need to research the trading vessels myself and select a smuggler. Like I said, this was a backup plan that I already had. I have only to do those two things, and it will be in action within the next few solar days or so. Should it take me any longer, I'll notify you immediately."

"Impressive work as always, Miranda. I look forward to hearing your next report." He took another drink from his glass and closed the channel.

Lawson arose from her chair and opened the door with her omni-tool. "Lights to zero intensity," she commanded as she left the office. Soon thereafter, she locked the door and strolled down the steps to her assistant's desk below it. "I'm heading out for a business meeting. Forward any high priority calls to my omni-tool; otherwise take messages for everything else. I'll likely return after your lunch hour. Get someone to cover for you; I don't want this desk unmanned while you're out."

The asari nodded with understanding. "Yes, Ms. Lawson. Might I ask where this business will take you?"

"You just did," Miranda's jaw tensed up as she expressed her impatience with her assistant's frivolous question. "All you need to know is that I'll be back in the middle of the afternoon. Move my two o'clock appointment with Mr. Gotti to three. And if he won't wait, then tell him that he can take his business elsewhere."

"As you say, ma'am."

"Good. And don't ever wear that dress again to the office." Her eyes cruelly sized up the asari from head to toe before she made her way to the building's entrance. "It makes you look like a streetwalker." With that last callous statement, she left.

Arcturus Station, Alliance HQ, November 22, 2178, 1248h

The weight lifting room was empty except for one other marine who was sitting upon a machine pushing a couple hundred pounds of steel plates with her legs. She was completely oblivious to Shepard's and Celeste's presence, though. The machine faced the room's secondary exit, and she wore headphones blasting some kind of music in her ears.

Shepard stacked some circular weights into four different piles. They each totaled to about three hundred pounds. "How's this, Celeste?" he asked as he crouched over them. "Should I add more, or will these be enough for us?"

"You said that you ate already, right?" the asari wondered and studied him astutely.

"Yeah. I piled a few more fries onto my plate than I probably should have, but ah, I'll work it off here." Shepard shrugged and straightened up.

"Yes, those will do for now. Come on over here. We'll start with some meditation." She beckoned him to join her with one slender finger.

"Meditation? What's that gonna do for me?" He took off his hooded light jacket and slung the garment over a nearby bench press as he made his way over to her.

"It'll help you focus. And should you want to learn a new technique today, it'll open your brain's neural pathways up more easily. We want oxygen to run very freely through that large head of yours, Shepard. Now, come a little closer to me." He obeyed her and folded his hands behind his back to an at ease position. "No, don't do that. It's going to hamper your circulation. Lift your hands up and keep your palms open towards me. Spread your legs apart a little but keep your weight evenly balanced. Good."

Shepard's face wrinkled with uncertainty; he didn't know if he liked where this unorthodox training was going to go. But she was an Asari, and no other species in the galaxy could handle biotics more adeptly than they. There was also no question in his mind that she was attracted to him; that much was certain. All the body language that gave indications that she was flirting was there, unless the Asari were just that comfortable talking about sexuality.

She spoke with several of the other marines during lunch; he didn't actually have a chance to sit near her. As soon as she had stepped into the serving line, she was instantly flooded, and the same thing happened when she went to sit down. But he didn't mind sharing; she was a fascinating and extremely charming alien. Now he understood _why_ so many men and some women were raving over the Asari.

"Now relax your mind and empty it from any past memories or thoughts about the future, just for a few moments," Celeste's serene voice brought him back to his training. "If it helps you, close your eyes and listen to my voice."

He did just that but felt his pulse quicken a little as he wondered what was going to happen next. Suddenly, he felt four of her fingers invade both sides of his head and came to rest upon his temples. "You're not relaxing, Shepard. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth all throughout this exercise."

"I've never done anything like this before."

"I can sense that, but I can feel that your will is exceptionally strong. Your personality is very dominant, and just let me do something here." All of her fingers minus her thumbs now rested upon his temples, and she pressed down upon his skin a bit more firmly. "Mmm…yes. As you feel the energy from my fingers, I want you to clear your mind."

"I'm trying," he grunted.

"Let me in, Shepard." He felt a very slight sting from the tips of her fingers as her biotics met his flesh.

"What're you doing to me?"

"Trying to help you find your center. It'll help you release the mass effect fields with more precision and accuracy. But you need to stop fighting me, or I won't be able to…ah..." she winced and suddenly removed her fingers from him.

His eyes flew open and saw her take a step back and try to catch her breath. "What the hell just happened? Are you okay?" he demanded.

"By the goddess…I'd never dreamed that you would be so…intense."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Not physically, no." Celeste rested a hand upon her own head and let out a deep exhale. "But this won't work until you calm down."

"I _am_ calm," he insisted and made eye contact with her.

"No. You have a great deal of turmoil inside of you. It's hard enough for me to try and join the two of our…-"

"What _were_ you trying to do to me?"

"Let's forget this," she shook her head and regained her balance. "Maybe we can try another time."

"But-"

"I'll still teach you some of the techniques I've learned to harness, Shepard. We had a bargain; I don't go back on my word. But you must deal with your dark thoughts before I can try to teach you any sort of deep meditation. It's not something that I can just read to you out of a book or have you write it down to remember it. You have to feel it; only then will your brain cells store that knowledge."

"Fine." He crossed his arms over his chest and stiffened his posture. "Show me what you've got."

"I noticed that you can charge very well. Your shockwave is a bit unsteady but solid, nonetheless. Would you like to try something a bit more challenging?"

"That's me all right." Shepard smirked and pointed to himself. "I'm ready."

"Good, because what I'm going to teach you involves pulling those weights around. And not just one by one. You're going to lift and pull them biotically towards the both of us by those stacks I had you make."

"What? You want me to do four of those at a time?" he cried with disbelief.

"That's what we'll start with," she nodded. "Then hopefully, with some time, you'll be able to pull them _all _towards us at once."

"But I-"

"You said that you liked a challenge."

Celeste walked right in front of him, placed her hand onto his chest, and slid it down to his abdomen. Even through his t-shirt, she felt his muscles respond to her touch. "Prove it," was all she said. Then she released her hold from his body and stepped away.

Shepard took a deep inhale, closed his eyes, formed his hand into a balled fist, drew it closer to his chest, and he imagined that every single one of those weights came off of the ground. As he opened them back up, exhaled, and relaxed his fist, two of the stacked piles rose into the air.

"Excellent, Shepard. Can you direct them towards us?" Celeste encouraged him.

"I don't think…more than a few feet…" he panted and held out his hand but kept his arm close to his body. The eight weights evenly all came about ten feet towards them, but Shepard unfortunately lost his concentration, and they all came crashing down to the floor uncontrollably hard. "Shit."

"That's a start, and you managed to keep them all grouped together while they were coming towards us. What I'm teaching you is a somewhat advanced power here, Shepard. I think you can handle what I have in mind for you. You have only to keep your mind balanced while it's happening; I can see that your spirit is not in harmony with-"

"Cut the mystical crap, will ya? Let me try it again." Shepard's eyebrows furrowed and he repeated the same actions with his body just as he did before. The other stacks traveled just like the others did, but this time, he brought them about halfway down the room.

"Good. Now for something a little different. You're going to put them all back just where they started." He turned to face her and gave her a puzzled look. "No, you must assume your previous position, Shepard. You need to keep that same level of focus that you just had."

Shepard chuckled and gave her a wide grin.

"Did I inadvertently say something humorous?" she inquired.

"Well, in the military, when someone in authority tells you to 'assume the position', that usually means that either punishment or embarrassment is not far behind."

"Would that help you focus if you thought of it that way?"

"Not if I picture _you_ giving the orders," he shook his head 'no'.

"Your honesty, although quite appreciated, Shepard, isn't helping you. Now, pivot your body…back to its previous state and get those weights back across the room. And maybe, just maybe," she gave him a hint of a smile, "you'll get a reward."

He did as she instructed with his body but lunged his arm forward and biotically threw all of them into the stand that he had originally removed them from. The thunderous crash caused the female marine that had been doing her solitary workout to remove her headphones and frantically look about the room for danger.

"Now that's not what I-" Celeste began, but he impatiently moved in for the kill.

About one second later, his mouth immediately found hers. Without waiting for her silent permission, he opened his lips and roughly tugged upon her own. She let him set the pace and accepted his actions. Then she gently pushed him back and tried to correct her own erratic breathing. "My, you are certainly…you know what you want," she commented huskily.

He tried to read her expression and tilted his head to the side.

"But so do I," Celeste returned softly. She then returned his kiss, and as he responded warmly to her, she slid her hands underneath his t-shirt.

The female marine rolled her eyes, put her headphones round her neck, and got up from the weight machine. "Apparently, that's the end of _my_ workout," she lamented upon her way out and locked the door behind her.

As the asari's hands ran smoothly over his flesh, Shepard got the message, broke away from their kiss, and stripped himself of his shirt. "Ever seen what a man's chest looks like?" he inquired with a smirk.

"Hmm, yes, but they appear quite different in real life than on the vids," Celeste came back. Her eyes briefly settled upon his firm pectorals and traveled down to his abdomen.

Shepard's smirk grew even more brazen; he seized hold of both of her hands and laid them upon his chest. "The movie stars all work out pretty damn hard to get in shape, but this is what a marine's chest feels like. What do you think now?"

There was only an extremely small patch of hair that grew in between his pectoral muscles; her fingers tickled him in that spot for more than a few seconds. His own breathing grew more unsteady as he watched and felt her explore him.

"Erotic. Now, what am I doing to your…" One hand escaped his chest and snaked down his pants to his nether region. "Ah, that's_ precisely_ what I thought would happen when I did that," she laughed and teased him. "I like it."

"You're wearing far too much clothing," he told her as his pulse quickened even more. Her actions upon both his chest and the area down south caused his next words to come out in a huff. "Any chance that I could con you out of some of that?"

"There will be no need to sway me, Shepard." Her hands left him and began to strip herself off her body armor. "And what of you? Have you ever seen any of us without clothing?"

"Uh, well, there _was_ that time in the base we blew up." He exhaled a breath through his lips and tried to calm himself down as his ravenous eyes took her gorgeous curves in. "But that was from about twenty feet away. It's much different up close."

"How could I forget?" she laughed. "Well, think of this as a hands on experience."

"No need to tell me twice." Shepard unconsciously licked his lips and bit his lip with anticipation as she slowly undressed for him. "Come here." He pulled her back to himself before she could finish removing her boots and lunged his mouth upon her jaw.

Celeste let out a very exaggerated sigh and tilted her head back to give him complete access to her neck. He gradually moved his lips down to that area and directed both of their bodies to the wall of the weight room. When she hit the wall, he then began to lift and slide his lips in an unpredictable fashion onto her. Both of his arms came to rest against the wall, locking her effectively in place. "Goddess," she murmured, and that caused him to smile.

"Yes, that's precisely what you are," he whispered back to her in between his kisses.

**A/N**-It is an entire coincidence that Celste's last name sounds like Liara's. I originally called her Simon, after the Flemish mathematician who founded the metric system, but someone pointed out the fact that it didn't sound alien enough, so hence the 'T' and the 'i' at the end of the name. To those of you who have been patiently waiting, yes, here is the first appearance of Miranda in this novel, and it certainly won't be the last. She is in her old form, of course, before the battle of the Citadel or the Lazarus Project, so don't be at all surprised about her acerbic attitude. I have to admit that I've taken some artistic licensing here; we don't know all that much about Miranda before Shepard, but I hope it isn't too out of context or character. It is also highly unlikely that Miranda would have an alien assistant; however, I guess she was in a rush to get one and this asari just seemed to fit the bill. If you've read Mass Effect Vindication, then you'll know exactly who Cerberus operative 14 is. Thanks for reading, and I hope that everyone has enjoyed what they've read so far. Spread the word if you like!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Nos Astra, Illium, Tasale system, Crescent Nebula

Eternity Lounge, November 22, 2178, 1302h

"What can I get for ya, toots?" an asari matriarch with a deep voice asked Miranda as she stepped up to the bar. It sounded like sandpaper being ground against a glass surface, and the word 'toots' inwardly made her blood boil.

The matriarch was drying off a pair of shot glasses with a towel and kept an eye on a human male dressed in body armor with a blue circular logo on it that was sizing Miranda up from head to toe. Miranda was quite aware of the infamous Blue Suns and their reputation around the Terminus systems. Rumor had it that the rough mercenary group was initiated by a batarian slaver named Solem Dal'serah out in the Skyllian Verge, but Miranda had different suspicions. The Batarian embassy had officially closed its doors upon the Citadel in 2171 nor welcomed humans onto its home planet Khar'shan ever since then. Why would the Blue Suns still hire more humans into their organization if it were truly started by a batarian? Finding one that was not hostile to humans was more rare than finding an asari that had not been trained to use biotics.

"Have you heard any conversations today among any smugglers in here?" Miranda demanded and ignored the merc's inappropriate leer. "I'm looking to hire one, preferably human, but anyone will do."

"Ha ha ha," the intoxicated merc near her guffawed. His voice became louder as it grew more bold. "Ah, I can see that you're from down under, too? Aussie, aussie, aussie!"

Lawson closed her eyes with extreme irritation, and she inwardly recoiled upon hearing this little chant from her fellow Australian denizen. The appropriate response would be in the form of 'oi, oi, oi', but there was no way on Illium _or_ Earth that she would give him the satisfaction of hearing it. First of all, she didn't want to encourage his already drunken behavior into making another advance upon her. And secondly, the whole thing reminded her some of the indigent neighborhoods that she found her childhood friend Niket in once. She had been raised in the metropolis of Melbourne but lived a few miles outside of it for the first sixteen years of her life. The whole phrase screamed filth to her, and she preferred not to give this moron anything more than a nasty glare.

And that was what she precisely did. She then returned her attention to Matriarch Aethyta, who merely poured the merc another shot. "You might have some luck with those Turians over there." The Asari gestured with her head behind Miranda to a lively four-some that was playing a rowdy game of Skyllian Five poker. "Don't ya want anything to drink, sister?" she wondered.

"Not at this particular time of the day," Miranda quipped and spun upon her heel to head for her mark. "But if you could send some sparkling mineral water over to that VIP room, then that would be sufficient. Don't you think he's had enough?" She glanced over upon the inebriated Blue Suns merc.

"Start paying his tab, and I'll agree with ya," Aethyta snapped back. "Any particular kind of mineral water you want?"

"Armali Springs."

"Don't carry that brand here anymore."

"Fine. I'll settle for something from Serrice, then." As she turned upon her heel, Aethyta made an insult in her own dialect under her breath. Miranda understood her but ignored it. Matriarchs were potentially the most powerful biotics of the Asari; she had no intention of challenging one.

None of the four turians paid Miranda any mind when she journeyed over to their table until she opened her mouth. "Who here's got the fastest ship?"

"That'd be mine," the one facing her said. He pointed to himself, and the turian who had his back turned to Miranda threw his cards face down onto the table.

"She asked who's got the fastest _running___ship, not the one that'll break down after one lousy quick maneuver outta Omega, you idiot."

"Oh yeah? What's so great about yours? Yours burns up fuel faster than a salarian outrunning a krogan!" The one who sat to his left argued.

"Better than that old piece of junk_ you_ pilot. I can't believe that _that_ sorry-assed hunk of crap sitting in the docking bay isn't lying in a pile of scrap metal on Korlus," the last one jeered.

_Great. This is going absolutely nowhere. Let's add a new flavor to the conversation, _she thought.

"This job pays extremely well, and _no_ questions whatsoever are to be asked about the mission _or_ the cargo," she interjected.

"Piss off, human," two of them waived dismissive hands at her and went back to concentrate upon the cards in their hands.

"Very well," Miranda announced with a scowl and was about to leave until the one closest to her grabbed her by the arm.

"No, wait. I kind of like this bitch. She seems kinda feisty and probably blows better than your typical Asari prostitute." He removed his hand from her arm and smacked her right on the derriere; she calmly faced him and seized hold of his hand. "Yeah, gonna put that somewhere I like, honey?" he sneered.

"I'll certainly give you something to remember," Miranda coldly stated. Without another second to lose, she jerked one of his fingers in a very unnatural direction. It snapped, and he cried out in pain. His other hand reached towards a hip holster, and the rest of the turians at the table all drew their weapons. Unfortunately, Miranda's reaction time was about one tenth faster than theirs. Her sidearm carnifex pistol seemingly came out of nowhere, but it had of course, been resting upon her weapon belt that went round her hips.

"Hey! No one's gonna try anything like that in _my _bar," Matriarch Aethyta shouted from across the lounge and smashed her fist onto the bar. Her entire body started to glow with a blue saturation. "Now everybody settle down before I slap all of your asses with a singularity!"

Miranda wisely put away her gun and so did the rest of the Turian smugglers. The one she injured got up from the table and left, muttering to himself about how much he hated his life. She started to leave, but one with some red facial paint across his mandibles held up his finger. "I'd like to help you out, Miss."

"Didn't you tell me to piss off just a moment ago?" she scoffed.

"That was him," the turian pointed to his companion across the table. "I for one, don't give a damn about humans one way or the other, just as long as I get my score for what I do."

"I've got a room in there that I've hired for the afternoon," Miranda signaled his attention to his left. "We can talk privately in there. What I've got to say isn't for the public ear. Come see me once you've finished your game." She turned and made her way into the VIP area.

The turian stood, went over to the bar's kiosk, and swept his credit chit across it. Aethyta gave him a wary glance and wiped the bar down with her towel. "Try anything in there, bud, and your face won't be the only part of your body that has scars on it." "I know better than to try anything with you. Or the human, apparently," he replied and walked into the VIP room.

Miranda poured some sparkling water from a pitcher into a glass goblet and lounged herself onto a sofa. She motioned for him to sit across from her in the chair, which he did. "Now, this job requires you to-" she began.

"Don't you want to start with names first?" he inquired.

"Fine, but keep your hands where I can see them on the table." She kept a hand upon her pistol's butt as she lifted the goblet up to her lips. When the turian crossed his arms defiantly, her body began to glow in a sapphire luminescence. "This isn't up for debate. Hands on the table _now_, or you'll lose the use of one of them."

"Pushy, aren't ya? Bet all the human males love trying to pick you up at a party," he snarled and finally complied with her commands. "The name's Marcellus Denorian. And you would be…"

"Isabella Solheim."

"That wasn't too hard."

She ignored his wisecrack, let her biotic field discharge, and consumed some more of her water. "As I previously stated earlier, this business relationship starts when I give you the details and ends after I walk off of your ship. No questions are to be asked. Are we clear?"

"Crystal. Let's talk some details," Marcellus leaned forward with interest.

"I'll need some more time before I can relinquish what you'll need. But let's just say that it would be wise to keep your ship fueled and ready for when I contact you."

"Can you at least give me a hint as to where our destination will be?"

"The Attican Traverse's outer edges, and that's all I can say about it right now."

"Am I transporting passengers or cargo?"

"You'll be transporting me. That's all you need to know." Miranda finished her water and poured herself some more.

"Fine, I can work with that for now," he nodded. "Let's discuss a price."

"One thousand credits now, and four thousand more after the job's done."

"What kind of business do you do, Miss Solheim?"

"That's a question."

"Damn straight it is. If I'm sticking my ship or crew out for doing some kind of dangerous mission that's liable to go wrong, then you can kiss my scaly backside." He waived a hand at her dismissively.

"I said that in order to take this job, then there'll be no questions." Her slate blue eyes stared him down.

"Two thousand credits now, and six thousand more after we get you wherever the fuck your pretty little behind wants to go," he sniped.

"I don't care for your tone, Mr. Denorian."

"Then just agree to my price and our little charade of diplomatic negotiations can end now."

"Done. The address on this card will interface with my omni-tool; this is how you can contact me. How can I get in touch with you?" She slid the rectangular piece of paper on the table towards him.

"I'll send the information to you once you fill up this account with those two thousand credits." Marcellus typed in her information and sent her his bank account's number electronically. "Don't try to hack or trace it, either, lady. I launder the money every two weeks through a volus broker."

"They are the best," she nodded. "As you like, Mr. Denorian. It's just after two o'clock now; this transaction won't probably show up in your account until tomorrow."

"Then you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to get in touch with me, Miss Solheim," he smirked and arose. "I would say that it's been a pleasure, but you did break my brother's finger."

"I merely dislocated it. A doctor or a nurse in a free clinic should be able to fix it in less than thirty seconds," Miranda said with a shrug. "It's likely that that's where you'll find your brother. Coincidentally, there just happens to be one about two blocks from this bar. I look forward to doing business with you, Mr. Denorian."

Arcturus Station, Alliance HQ, December 7, 2178, 1747h

The men's community shower was not as full during this time of day as it would be in the early morning or late evening, which was precisely why Shepard decided to take the time now to clean off the filth from his body. Only five or six other marines were cleaning themselves in the place.

Today marked the sixth training session that he'd had with Celeste, and he had to her surprise, picked up everything that she taught him with ease. He could now pull about eight hundred pounds towards himself from the other end of the twenty-five foot room and also gently set them back down in a neatly piled stack. There was also a new power that she mentioned that the Asari were just now beginning to experiment with themselves, but there wasn't a proper name for it yet.

Her description entailed the user to focus his mind upon his or her own barrier, and then harness it all to the ground or a nearby target. The effect was incredibly powerful, and Shepard tossed out a casual remark, saying that it sounded like a nova or something. Neither he nor Celeste had tried it before; the technology was still experimental after all. And the Asari had not yet found a way to safely integrate this with a human implant. She said that she liked the nickname he gave the power and told him that she'd make a suggestion to a friend that she had in Serrice Technologies about it. They manufactured bio-amps almost exclusively for agents of the Council called spectres. He made a joke saying that he wanted some royalties if that was what the technology ended up actually being called once it was patented into being.

He was also able to improve his shockwave into a biotic freight train, but he could only send one chain of explosions at once. Celeste told him that he could send down two or more if he were able to meditate or focus even better.

Shepard switched on the faucet and leaned his hand against the wall as he reveled in the feeling that the hot steam poured onto his sore calf muscles. He also had jogged around the gymnasium's track for a couple of miles as well today. It was hard to get his mind off of Celeste. There was just something about her that was so fascinating.

"Hey, LT, how's it going?" Beckett asked him and started the shower going in the stall next to him. "Maybe I should ask how're you hanging?" He gave his friend a wink.

"Laugh it up, big guy, but I don't see any Asari hanging on _your_ arm around the complex," Shepard teased. "You've got your smooth moves, and so do I."

"The Asari are definitely sophisticated, I'll say that. I shared a drink with one of her friends; she's one of their commandoes and has certainly seen her share of action throughout the years."

"Ah-ha, so you _are_ at work."

"Of course. You just haven't seen it because you've got your sights set on that pirate queen."

"_Former_ pirate queen, Corporal," Shepard groused. "I don't think that that life is for her anymore."

"So those hair tentacles you were talking about, Shepard…what do they feel like?"

"Celeste calls them 'scalp crests'." He turned around and ran his hands through his hair. "But like our babies are born with no hair, the Asari grow them out of the back of their heads."

"Yeah, but what do they feel like? You must have run your hands through them at least _once_ now."

"Shit, man, you'll never give up, will you?" Shepard laughed.

"He's avoiding your question because he hasn't, jackass," came a voice from the entrance to the showers. It was W.F. Sanders, and he also started to clean himself not too far away from either of them. "You really wanna know, huh? Well, I'll tell you grunts _exactly _what they feel like. The stuff that makes up your nose…damn…can't remember the name…"

"Cartilage?" Beckett inquired.

"Yeah, that material. That's what they feel like, and they _love_ it when you grab it while doing them from behind," Sanders proudly announced and turned his back to them while he did his front side with a bar of soap.

Shepard scowled; he hadn't pictured himself doing that with Celeste. Unless she liked it, of course.

"Have you ever thought about what turns a woman on, sir?" Beckett prodded him.

"No, why should I?" Sanders sneered. "If they wanna fuck me, then they're already better than anyone that either of you two could ever do."

"Is that so, sir?" Shepard challenged him. "Just how many are you seeing right now?"

"None of your fucking business, ass wipe. But if you're that desperate to know, then maybe I'll tell you if you can beat my latest headshot record."

"I'm not, so don't worry yourself, sir." He grabbed some shampoo and lathered it into his hair.

"Anyway, Shepard, you need some…instructions?" Beckett gave him a 'cat that ate the canary' grin, to which Shepard just chuckled. "I've got some training vids on my omni-tool if you're interested."

"Well now that you mention it, it couldn't hurt. I know the Asari look just like our ladies, but do they have the same…uh…erogenous zones?" He closed his eyes and leaned back to let the shower rinse his hair off.

"Okay, that sounds more like a 'hell yeah' than a 'maybe'. You got a date with her tonight?" Beckett wondered.

"I was thinking about taking Celeste off the station, as a matter of fact," Shepard casually replied. "Maybe to a nice restaurant. The mess doesn't exactly measure up to her…standards."

After Sanders heard Celeste's name from Shepard's lips, the bar of soap slipped out of his hands, and he bent over to pick it back up. Neither marine saw his actions.

"Good thing that the Asari can eat human food," Beckett remarked. "Turians and Quarians can't eat anything of ours; they're dextro DNA."

"Guess that's probably for the best. I don't plan on dating somebody whose head is stuck in a bucket 24/7."

"They get all snooty about it when you happen to mention something about how pretty their environmental suits look, too. Yeah, I don't think I'll ever make one anything more than an acquaintance at best. So, about those training vids…"

"You got any with Asari or just human women?"

"Both, my friend. I've even got a rare collection of cross species' action. Hanar and Asari, ha ha ha. And you? What's become of your collection?"

"I might have a few vids; just don't like to brag about 'em in front of everybody."

"Neither do I man, but, it's good to share knowledge. Hey, have you noticed that thing that her eyes do when she comes?" Beckett scrubbed himself with a brush.

"You mean when they turn black? Yeah, I've been wondering...what the hell's that all about?"

"Did she say anything while it was going on?"

"Uh, I wasn't really paying attention, to tell you the truth." Shepard scratched away some dead skin from his arms with his own brush.

"I've heard rumors about it, but I don't know. Like I said, I've never had the pleasure. But I plan on turning that dream into a reality ASAP, LT."

"Well, whatever she was doing blew my mind. For a second, I swore that I knew what she was thinking, and that she knew what I was thinking."

"You're sick, Corporal," Sanders shouted from across the showers. "Next you'll be telling me that you've got bum chum footage, too."

"If you don't like the topic, you can always leave, sir," Shepard reminded him.

"You're right; I just might have a hot date to get to myself, Lieutenant." He turned off his faucet and picked up a towel on his way out. _And that will include me ramming myself up that little whore's ass_, he thought. _Two timing bitch._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Nos Astra, Illium, Tasale system, Crescent Nebula

Milky Way Foundation, December 8, 2178, 0930h

Miranda's first and last appointment of the day with her last client ended in her favor, as usual. With a confident sigh, she consumed the last of her coffee from the bone china cup and eased herself back into her chair after walking the client out of her office.

She peered disgustedly upon the dregs in the bottom of the cup and pressed her alabaster fingers to a touch screen that served as her intercom to her assistant. "Penellaeia, I'd like to see you in here for a moment," she calmly stated and opened her door.

One minute later, the asari appeared in her office. "Yes, Ms. Lawson? What may I do for you?" she innocently asked.

Miranda lifted the cup up from its saucer and raised a haughty eyebrow towards Penellaeia. "_What_ do you call this?"

"Coffee, ma'am. Was it not hot enough this morning?"

"No, the temperature was just right. The fact that you didn't properly insert the filter into the machine is all too obvious. There are grounds in not only my cup but also the one you gave to Mr. Costello earlier this morning."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lawson. It won't happen again." The asari bowed her head humbly and took the two cups away from her desk. "I must not have been thinking very clearly this morning."

"I'd like a fresh pot now, and don't forget to clean it out before making it first."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm truly sorry."

"That's all right. Nobody's perfect," Miranda said with a shrug. _Even me._

While her assistant performed her new obligation, Miranda finished typing up the business details for the Turian smuggler who had agreed to help her, Marcellus Denorian. She sent them to his email account through one of her several disposable email accounts and sealed it with a two hundred fifty-six bit encryption. She doubted that anyone important would be reading his emails, but an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of a cure. _Now who said that again? Hmm…that's right…Benjamin Franklin_.

"Does this meet with your approval, Ms. Lawson?" Penellaeia wondered as she set the coffee cup next to Miranda's elbow on the desk.

Miranda's keen eyes examined the color; she picked it up and took a sip. She gave a small beam to her assistant as a reward. _Perhaps I was a tad too harsh with her before_, she thought. _She is an extremely hard worker._

"Thank you, that'll be all, Penellaeia. Have you rescheduled all of my appointments for today?"

"Yes, Ms. Lawson. Miss Clark says that she can wait until next week for your decision, and Mr. Skinner says that he'll be making his donation to another company."

"Pity." Her lips twisted themselves about as she thought. "Oh well. You may go now, and feel free to take the afternoon off."

Penellaeia's usual expression of worry turned into one of relief. "Thank you, Ms. Lawson. My father-in-law on Sur'Kesh isn't doing so-"

Lawson held up her hand and waived her off. "Yes, yes, I understand. Take tomorrow off as well. But don't try to take advantage of me, or you'll come to regret it later on."

The asari left her office, and Miranda activated her omni-tool. "Sometimes they need to be reminded that even though they think that they run the galaxy, this is _my _office," she muttered to herself before making her next call. Another asari's image appeared upon the omni-tool's vid screen. "Good morning, Ms. Lawson. How are you this morning?"

"I'd like an update on Oriana, Lanteia." Miranda despised making small talk, especially with business partners. "Any trouble this past week?"

"The omni-tool gift that you sent for her birthday went over tremendously well, Ms. Lawson. She's been playing vid games on it non-stop. Oriana seems to be doing really well with her studies and loves science the best."

_Naturally_, Miranda thought. _She wouldn't be much of a sister of mine if she didn't_.

"She also makes friends quite easily…"

_That's something we don't share._

"There was something that happened, but it wasn't serious."

"Tell me just the same, Lanteia," Miranda said and served herself some more of the freshly brewed coffee into a clean cup.

"A stranger driving a limousine approached her while she was waiting for her ride to come pick her up outside of her school."

"Is there a reason why you didn't interfere?" Miranda's tone became slightly more concerned.

"I was close enough within earshot and ready to intervene if that did become necessary. The driver asked Oriana if she'd like to meet a really neat scientist…"

Miranda's eyes hardened as she sipped her coffee. _No. He couldn't have found her. I just had her moved to a different school._

"Did he get out of the limousine?" Miranda interjected.

"No, he did not. Oriana turned him down and ran back into the playground, which was extremely populated by several adults and children. If I even thought about moving in on him, Ms. Lawson…"

"I understand. Thank you for your vigilance, Lanteia."

"Will there be anything else, Ms. Lawson?"

"Nothing more." Miranda ended the call and took the cup over to her desk. She pulled up an email from one of her expendable accounts to double check the correspondence in between herself and the captain of the MSV Anastasia. The Anastasia's cargo list was easy to retrieve; Eldfell Ashland's methods of encryption were easy to crack. The crew manifest listed about ten crew members. All of them were human, so the barriers of mistrust would be relatively easy for her to break.

She had kept the pseudonym of Isabella Solheim and claimed that she was an officer of the Alliance's Geological Services. They wanted to send someone who would ensure the safe transport of this element zero to Elysium. The captain wrote back that Eldfell Ashland would be more than happy to accommodate the Alliance and gave her the trip's complete itinerary. Miranda would meet the Anastasia on Omega; her first reaction upon reading that bit of information immediately repulsed her. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to make her rendezvous with the captain inside Afterlife, the station's solitary but gigantic nightclub run by a ruthless asari named Aria T'Loak. But if that's what it took to get the mission done, then that's what she would do. It just meant that she'd now have to arm herself with even more than a sidearm.

"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered each word slowly as a new message popped up upon her terminal. The captain indeed wanted to meet at Afterlife. "Great. That'll add an interesting flavor to my next conversation with the Illusive Man." And speaking of which, it was high time that she made contact with her superior. Miranda performed the same operation with her omni-tool as she had previously, and apparently, this FTL communication buoy was either out of service, or the Illusive Man had moved Cerberus' central operations again without telling her.

She had success the second time she tried, though, and his likeness appeared upon her terminal's holo screen again. "I was hoping to hear from you soon, Miranda," he said and lit a cigarette. "Your silence has been a little longer than I anticipated."

"I apologize for that, sir, but-"

"Understand that I have complete faith in you, Operative Lawson, as well as your abilities. I was just a bit surprised by your…lack of communication." He placed the cigarette in between his lips to begin his first inhale of smoke. The cloud that followed from his exhale floated slowly above his head."How have your plans been coming along?"

"Everything is in place, sir. I have but to make my rendezvous with the MSV Anastasia's captain on Omega, which apparently…will be in Afterlife."

He paused for a moment to take in another drag. An expression that could actually pass for concern briefly went across his face; Miranda only caught it because she had been watching him the entire time instead of only keeping an eye on him and not multi-tasking anything with her terminal upon the second holo screen on her desk. Did he truly care about her as a person? Or was she just another one of his many assets?

"I know how capable you are of handling yourself should the need for violence become necessary, Miranda, but would you like me to send someone to keep an eye out for you in case there's trouble? Deadly fights can break out at the drop of a hat in that facade of a slaughterhouse. He'll keep his distance, of course."

_Well. Perhaps being the new second in charge can have its own advantages._

She inserted her index finger absent-mindedly in between her lips as she pondered his offer. "I'll be fine, sir. But thank you for your concern," she finally said and shook her head 'no'.

"How long do you expect that this trip will last?"

"I'm hoping not more than two days. I'd like to get this job over with and get back to Illium as soon as possible."

"The Milky Way Foundation can hold its own without you for a while, Operative Lawson. Remember, there are many qualified individuals under you who can assume your responsibilities should the need arise."

"I realize that, sir, but their reliability is at best sketchy. None of them understand what we truly do for humanity. I don't like putting my work at risk with people who don't truly know about us."

"Masks are sometimes difficult to wear," the Illusive Man agreed and pulled away upon his cigarette once more. "And working in shadow requires a great deal of sacrifice. Know that Cerberus…I…appreciate all of your hard work and dedication, Miranda."

"Thank you, sir." She unconsciously ran her tongue across her lips. Praise from the Illusive Man was _extremely_ rare, even for her.

He ended the call without another word, and Miranda arose to step into the half bathroom that was next to her office's kitchenette. She eyed herself in the mirror to check her makeup as she washed her hands in the sink. _That reminds me to take an injection kit with me. Although I'm much more resilient to poison than the average human, there's no telling what kind of trouble my contact could run into._ _I want him cognizant of his surroundings at all times. There's no telling what kind of a man he is from email correspondence alone._

Miranda returned to her terminal and shut it completely down. She then ran over her list of things to do before she would depart Illium for Omega upon her omni-tool, shut off the lights, and stopped by her assistant's desk. The asari instantly ceased to type upon her haptic interface keyboard and gave her employer her full attention. "Are you leaving for your trip now, Ms. Lawson?" she asked.

"Yes. Remember to direct any calls that were meant for my office-"

"To Mr. Peterson, yes, ma'am," Penellaeia finished. "And thank you once again for your generosity."

Miranda nodded her acknowledgment and walked out of the building with a confident stride towards her car. The soundtrack that accompanied her as she drove back to her apartment was Samuel Barber, a contemporary composer of Carl Nielsen. Perhaps after she returned from this little detour she'd finally be able to use those season tickets to the Nos Astra Philharmonic Orchestra that one of her clients had given to her.

As she set one foot into the apartment, the automatically programmed lights turned themselves on. "Welcome home, Ms. Lawson," a female synthetic voice told her.

She sighed with mild irritation. "I've never been able to shut that damned thing off properly without also disabling the automatic lighting at the same time. Probably should get that looked at when I get back."

The housekeeper that she hired to come in twice a week had left everything as it was supposed to be. And more. As Miranda opened her refrigerator, she noticed that there was a freshly squeezed bottle of orange juice inside it as well as a covered dish with some instructions on how to properly heat the meal. "That was kind of her. I didn't think that she had time to make some lunch for me as well," she muttered.

Miranda closed the door, climbed up the spiral staircase that led to the master bedroom suite, and strolled inside her rather spacious walk-in closet. She selected a couple of outfits for herself; one was an Alliance business suit and the other was her usual choice of business wear minus the Cerberus logo upon the lapel. After tossing both outfits onto her bed, she opened the drawer of her night stand next to her bed and dug out both her carnifex pistol as well as the M-4 shruriken submachine gun made by Elkoss Combine.

She had recently cleaned the carnifex, but the shruriken would definitely need to be disassembled and oiled. And that specifically was the next task she set herself upon after activating her stereo with her omni-tool. She loved Nielsen the best, but Beethoven would help her concentrate a little better when she had to reassemble the submachine pistol. _A horn sonata should do quite nicely_, she thought and selected one from her playlist.

Arcturus Station, Alliance HQ, December 8, 2178, 2016h

Officer's Quarters

Shepard did not have his own separate bedroom unlike the higher ranking officers in the Alliance; he shared with another officer. Thankfully, though, that officer was away serving on the SSV Kilamanjaro, and Shepard had the entire place to himself. Well, the accommodations weren't exactly empty any more, now that Celeste had unofficially moved herself in with him. They pushed the separate twin beds together, and Celeste used his roommate's towels.

For the moment, Shepard had gone to the officer's dining hall to grab a bottle of wine and glasses, so Celeste was by herself. She spoke to her mother via omni-tool earlier, who seemed very intrigued by this human, and wanted to know everything that she could about him. Celeste brushed off her mother's overprotective attitude, saying that he didn't fit the stereotypes that so many Asari had painted of human soldiers. Her mother told Celeste to 'kick him in the quad' should he need it; Celeste merely sighed in response instead of correcting her mother that human males only have two. After she ended the call, the door to the quarters opened very quietly.

She still heard the hydraulic seals hiss open but did not turn around. "My, my, back so soon." Celeste began to turn herself around. "I thought that it would take you longer to-"

Unfortunately, she had a visitor, and it was not Shepard. Staff Lieutenant W.F. Sanders stormed inside and slammed a fist into the panel next to the wall. It sparked slightly, and the door's green locking mechanism went to orange, meaning that it was now damaged. "Yeah, baby, that's right. You've got some fucking nerve," his voice growled ominously.

She swallowed a gulp down her throat the size of a krogan dumpling.

"Sanders, I thought that we'd agreed…" she began.

"That what we had wasn't serious? No shit, you dumb bitch. I just didn't figure that you'd be stupid enough to fuck one of my subordinates at the same time as me." He pointed to himself and made his way towards her.

Her biotics flickered around her body in an azure glow. "It was nothing personal; unlike you, Shepard does not fit into the stereotype that my people told me about."

"Neither is this, you cheap hooker!" Before she could try and defend herself, he seized hold of her arm and squeezed it tightly. "Thought I wouldn't find out, huh? You Asari think you're all so fucking better than us humans!"

"Sanders, you're hurting me..."

"That's the point, you tart." His grip became even stronger as he now took hold of both of her arms and forced them behind her back.

"What the hell…?" Shepard's voice came from behind the damaged door. "I didn't lock this. Celeste, what's going on…?"

"Shepard!" Celeste screamed, and Sanders clamped a hand over her mouth. She bit her teeth over the flesh of his palm so hard that it drew blood, and he howled in pain."I'm gonna fuck you three ways from Sunday, you little bitch!" he cried out and shook the blood off of his hand that was now dripping onto the floor.

Celeste threw him against the wall while Shepard pounded upon the other side of the door furiously with his fist and used nearly every single curse word that he could possibly utter into an exclamation. Sanders slumped to the floor in a daze. "Who the hell else is in there?" Shepard yelled. "Celeste, are you all right?"

"I'm okay. But he won't be out for long," the asari shouted back.

"Bathroom! Loose tile in the wall! Behind the toilet!" Shepard closed his eyes to concentrate and sent his fist biotically through the wall to get to the control panel.

Celeste hurried into the bathroom and frantically scoured the place for the tile that Shepard mentioned. Unfortunately, Sanders had regained his stamina, and gave chase after her. "Oh no, you don't," he scowled as he saw her fingernails dig into the tile and remove it from the wall.

The door to Shepard's bedroom opened finally, he came storming through, and just in time, too. Celeste recovered the M-4 predator pistol from the tile, but it was too late. Sanders seized the gun from her before she could fire it, and smashed the hand that was holding it against the mirror. "I'll teach you to two time me, you little-"

Shepard rocketed his body in a frantic charge right into his superior officer from behind. The two of them nearly knocked over Celeste, who stepped out of the way just in time. Sanders slammed into the wall but elbowed his opponent in the ribs. Since Shepard was not wearing his body armor, he immediately doubled over, and Sanders' fist connected with his underling's nose.

The cartilage made a loud cracking noise as it broke and began to bleed profusely.

Shepard recovered and then bashed his bleeding fist into Sanders' jaw. He then decided to take his chances and kicked his boots into Sanders' groin. Unfortunately, Sanders was wearing protection, and he merely swept his large leg underneath Shepard to take him down.

Celeste took this opportunity to run outside of the quarters and start to scream for help. She could have taken Sanders out with biotics but did not want to take the chance that she would have also caught Shepard in her energy fields.

Shepard fell onto the ground with Sanders on top of him; he repeatedly slammed his fists into Shepard's face, and Shepard couldn't block all of the blows in time. "I was only gonna make her pay, but now you're gonna wish that you'd never been born, fuck stick!" he yelled.

Anderson and two privates hurried into the quarters without another second to spare. "Sanders, get the hell off of him!" he barked.

When the larger officer refused to listen and kept crashing his fists into Shepard, Anderson took out his sidearm and fired a shot into the mirror. "Enough!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Sanders finally halted his actions, and the two privates pulled him off of Shepard. He struggled with them, but they kept their firm hold upon him. "Get him outta here and toss him into the brig," Anderson ordered, and they hauled him out of the quarters.

He helped Shepard get to his feet, and Shepard wiped his bloody nose with his uninjured hand. "Report to the med bay ASAP, both of you."

"I'll be all right, sir," Shepard sniffled.

"That wasn't a request, Lieutenant. Now take Miss T'Simoni and go!"

"Yes, sir." The two of them obeyed Anderson right away.

Omega, Saharabik cluster, Omega Nebula

Just outside of Afterlife, December 9th, 2178, 2231h

The imposing hulking form of an elcor stood at the front of the line to get into the club, where an impudent turian was arguing with him. "Come on, let me in. Aria's expecting me!"

"Annoyed: if she were expecting you, then you would be inside already," the elcor bouncer droned back. The undeniably loud rock music from the foyer nearly drowned him out as the door opened to let another pair of patrons inside.

Miranda arrogantly made her way past the line that stretched around the block and walked straight past the altercation. She was about to march past a batarian with a data pad, but his hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. "Just where do you think you're going, lady?" he snidely demanded.

Her biotic fields began to encompass her body, and she pointed to the submachine gun that hung upon her weapon belt that surrounded her hips. "I see that you're new here. What was your name?" she spat.

"Moklan. But I'm not-" The batarian released her arm and rubbed his eyes.

"The name's Isabella Solheim. If you don't see it on your little VIP list there, then feel free to go have a chat with Aria." Bullying her way through a business deal was not usually how she liked to go about things, but short of bullets, that was about the only way that one had to operate upon Omega to stay respectable.

"I uh…-"

"How many fingers would you like to keep?" Miranda suddenly seized hold of his left hand and went for his pinky.

"I…please! Go on in, VIP booth #4 is empty!" Moklan nervously unlocked the front door for her via his omni-tool; she shoved his hand back into his chest without another word, and journeyed inside. Before she ventured any further inside, she inserted two pieces of perfectly molded silicon into her ears for protection from the noise pollution but let her be able to focus on a conversation as long as she kept within five feet of her interlocutor.

Miranda waited patiently for the Asari waitress at her booth to finish rattling off the drink specials for the night and then proceeded to order a bottle of '47 Thessia Red along with two glasses. She reached into one of the Alliance business suit's thigh pockets and withdrew a yellow ribbon. As soon as the waitress came back and opened her purchase, Miranda secured it around the bottle.

About an hour later, Miranda anxiously glanced at the time upon her omni-tool. Captain Graham O'Neill was now more than forty-five minutes late. She hadn't planned on consuming any wine tonight, but it had been over a month since she had been able to enjoy anything alcoholic. The Asari doctors that had removed the L2 implant and installed the newer and less riskier L3 warned her that alcohol consumption for two weeks was not advised.

She longingly gave one more look at the bottle before giving into temptation and finally caved to her desire. There were fewer patrons who hit on her while she was up here on the higher level, but they still came over every now and then. As the wine slid down her throat, she tasted the boysenberry, blackberry, and undertone of a sweet currant.

There was a time that her father let her try some wine when he had a business trip that took them down to Marlborough valley in New Zealand. She was about twelve years old at the time and wasn't quite sure what to make of the drink. At the time, the flavor was bitter, but not nearly as repugnant as she had thought it would be. It was a wine that was called Sauvignon Blanc. Nowadays, she was lucky if she could get some wine from that region.

Exports from Earth to Illium had horrible tariffs, and alcohol was among one of the things that was taxed the most. Perhaps the Asari there wanted to encourage their residents and citizens to purchase goods made there instead of discouraging goods made elsewhere in the galaxy, not that she would complain about Asari wine. It was still remarkably good, especially their Honey Meade. The closest type of human wine manufactured that she could liken it to was Riesling from Germany. It was sweet but did not overwhelm you with a sugary aftertaste like a Zinfandel or a Rose would.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," she lamented after looking at her omni-tool again.

"Who's the stupid idiot that stood you up?" a male voice to her left roused her from her reverie. A human garbed in black clothing and steel-toed combat boots wandered over to her booth. He did not sit down; he read her body language perfectly.

"Someone who won't probably live long enough to enjoy the rest of the bottle," she replied curtly.

He squinted at the label of the bottle. "'47 Thessia Red, huh? I always preferred '49 myself. They took out the boysenberry flavor and added some raspberry instead. I believe that the vineyard also changed the type of wood for the fermenting process from acacia to oak. Does that sound about right to you, Miss Solheim?"

Miranda was perplexed; this couldn't be Captain O'Neill. He wasn't dressed in a uniform like he stated that he would wear, and very few people knew her alias. Who was this man? He was relatively sober, had deep blue eyes, and she couldn't place his accent. She merely lifted an eyebrow in response.

"Hey, I don't blame you for your caution, lady. This place has some of the worst violence I've ever seen. Ah, shit." The man's gaze shifted from her to somewhere else in the club, and he activated his omni-tool to correct the problem. "There we go. That should do nicely for this song."

"What did you just-" Her eyes followed his actions.

The automated lighting instruments that had been slightly wandering off of the musical beat immediately began to fade their intensity out and changed to two complimentary colors of lavender and peacock. They began to strobe randomly as the bass pulsed, but they now definitely were in sync. "I'm the lighting engineer here, Miss Solheim. That's how I knew your name. Moklan put your name on the list."

"Do you normally make it a habit to visit VIPs, or were you trying to get lucky?" Miranda lifted the glass to her lips and took another drink of the wine.

"You looked like you needed some company," he shrugged. "And I can tell that you're not happy here." After a beat, he went on. "But at least you probably don't have to live on Omega, do you?"

"No, I don't," she nodded. "What about you?"

"I hate it here. The only reason why I stay is because of the pay; Aria pays me ten times the salary than I could ever make on the Citadel or on Illium."

"Wouldn't you rather be satisfied with where you are than what you're making?"

"Since I don't have a family yet, that's a no. Anyway, if you'd like, I can arrange for you to meet your date in a much quieter location if you'd like. This booth is muffled from the sound somewhat, but Aria's got some private rooms downstairs that are totally soundproof. I've been working in this club for three years and have no clue what goes on down there, but sometimes, it's best not to get too curious in this business."

"Especially with someone who can crush you in the blink of an eye with nothing but her mind. No thank you, that won't be necessary." She studied him for a few more moments. "I haven't exactly been very pleasant with you. What exactly do you hope to get out of this conversation?"

"Believe it or not, Miss Solheim, there are one or two people on Omega who have some integrity," the lighting engineer remarked sarcastically and left her without another word.

Ten minutes later, Miranda came back to her table and found Captain O'Neill sitting there. He was about to drink some of the wine from the glass sitting across from her place, but she stopped him. "Before you do that, I'd recommend a shot of this," she told him and removed a needle from her pocket. "I was away from the table, and although we're a bit more protected up here than on the lower levels, I still trust anyone in this club less than I can throw two space freighters."

"Isabella Solheim, I assume?" O'Neill inquired and accepted the needle.

"If you're Captain Graham O'Neill of the MSV Anastasia, then you'd better have a damned good reason for making me wait for over a whole bloody hour for you," her tone was laced with acerbity.

"I apologize, Miss Solheim. I had to break up a spat in between my men downstairs."

"That took an entire hour?" She crossed her arms in defiance.

O'Neill stuck the needle into his thigh. "And I had to pay for the damage they caused. Aria's accountants don't live in Afterlife."

She sighed impatiently. "I suppose that those are acceptable reasons."

"You can join us whenever you'd like, Miss Solheim. The ship will be ready to pull out of port in about three hours. Docking bay D12." She affixed a bottle stopper to the wine and lifted it off of the table. "Don't you want to enjoy the rest of it?" "Not on this hell hole of a space station. The sooner I'm off it, the better. Does your crew know I'm coming?"

"One sec." He turned, animated his omni-tool, and it briefly flashed as it took a picture of her. "Now they will. The two unlucky bastards that mouthed off to me 'fore we landed will let you aboard."

"Good. I'd also appreciate it if you'd delete that picture and advise your crew members to do so from their terminals or omni-tools as well."

"The AGS isn't normally that paranoid about their employees' records."

"I'm a very highly valued employee; take that for what you will." With that, she whirled around and exited the booth.

*A/N*-In the last chapter, it was completely coincidental that I used the name Isabella and Solheim. Solheim was originally supposed to be Miranda's last name, but for some odd reason because of Yvonne Strahovski's natural accent, they changed it to Lawson (a famous Australian writer). It doesn't make much sense to me; she could pull off a very acceptable US accent. Or maybe they wanted her to have a Norwegian accent (Solheim)? Only have I just learned that apparently, in DA2, there is a pirate queen named Isabella, much to my amusement. I never played the game nor will I because I became frustrated enough by its predecessor.

About the whole 'Aussie, Aussie, Aussie' chant, I am sorry if I have offended anyone over it. Incidentally, it did happen to me in real life. I did it to an acquaintance who was from Sydney hoping to get the 'oi, oi, oi' back; I received an eye roll in return. And yes, I have been to the Marlborough valley in NZ. They have the absolute best Sauvignon Blanc in the world.

At 28 years of age, it is a bit odd how Miranda rose up to where she was, which is why I added the phrase 'newly promoted'. Anyhow, thanks to everyone for reading so far. I'm still taking ideas for incidental vignettes that occur a bit after Miranda joined the Normandy (having to do with the Subjugation plot line). Please do PM me if you'd like to add your two cents. Would you like to see a date in between our favorite couple on the Citadel? Perhaps Miranda will speak with someone else besides her sister there, too?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Arcturus Station, Alliance HQ, December 10, 2178, 0848h

Outside the Officer's Mess Hall

After another mundane breakfast, Celeste excused herself from the table where she and Shepard had been eating to go take a shower. She let an invitation slip out of her mouth, and he gave her an innuendo in response. When she reached the door, Anderson called out her name. "Miss T'Simoni? Might I have a word with you?" he asked.

"Certainly," she responded with a warm smile. "Could we talk on the way to Shepard's quarters?"

"If you'd like," he nodded and motioned with his arm as if to say 'ladies first'. She went in front of him but they traveled side by side to their destination.

"What would you like to discuss?"

"Well, there were some ramifications from that incident with Staff Lieutenant Sanders, Shepard, and yourself. The admirals asked me to speak with you about it."

"Why? I'm not part of the Alliance."

"I know that, Miss T'Simoni. But your actions here have caused….hmm…well let's stay that it's caused quite a stir."

"Is it my fault that your people can't control their tempers?"

"Yes. It is, Miss T'Simoni."

She halted and so did he. "I see. So it's not a common practice for your species to have multiple sexual partners."

"It's not a generally accepted practice, no. And we don't exactly encourage fraternization in the Alliance, but you're an exception, of course," Anderson replied and shook his head. "I don't become involved in my crew's personal lives until it starts to affect their duties, mental capacities, or their safety."

"Do you think that they would have killed one another over me if you hadn't interfered?"

"That's not for me to say, Miss T'Simoni. The point is that I don't think you're understanding what has happened here."

She began her journey again, and he fell into step with her. "What're you saying, Captain?"

"It may sound like a foolish thought to you, Miss T'Simoni, but humans aren't normally patient with one another when jealousy is involved."

"That fact has become blatantly obvious."

"When two human males are in conflict over the same partner, words are not usually used by their instincts. It's beginning to occur to me that you are not in the least bit troubled by your actions here, either."

"I only came here to inform your people about what I found upon my old base. Anything else was purely secondary," she cast a haughty eye upon him.

Anderson's forehead drooped with frustration. "Are you saying that you don't give a damn about what you've done here?"

"Surely not. I've taught Shepard some new biotic skills, and he's become quite adept with them in a very short amount of time."

"I'm talking about the trouble you just caused not two days ago, Miss T'Simoni!" His voice raised in volume. "Sanders has received disciplinary actions for what he did to the both of you, and I'll be sure to give Shepard an earful as well, but you-"

She rolled her eyes but kept her voice steady. "How typical. I didn't think that you'd attempt to bully me like that halfwit. And here you are, almost ready to yell at me for something that wasn't really my fault."

"Believe you me, Miss T'Simoni, I am being incredibly polite," Anderson groused and clenched his teeth. "But I can see that words are not going to work on you now, so unfortunately, I have to dole out the Admirals' consequences."

"Consequences?"

"Yes, consequences. I don't know how the Asari raise their children, but-"

"Spare me the cultural connection here, Captain. What do they want? Asari technological secrets? Money?" They came to the door of the accommodations finally, and she leaned against the wall.

He shook his head despondently upon her indifference. "No, Miss T'Simoni. The Alliance would like you and your people to leave our station immediately. We'll have a ship ready to go in about four hours to take you back to the location of your choice."

Her jaw dropped in shock, and she gasped. "Surely you jest. None of my colleagues have done anything like this. Why should they have to leave as well?"

"We don't want to risk another incident. It's just waiting to happen again, and the Alliance would rather nip this in the bud right now. We also don't want to jeopardize any of the human/asari relations, do we?"

"No, we most certainly wouldn't," she said and her eyes narrowed. "All right, Captain, we will do as you say. I'd prefer to be dropped off in Nos Astra on Illium. Will the ship be making multiple stops, or are you planning to dump us all off in the same place?"

"One location only, Miss T'Simoni." Anderson held up a solitary finger.

"Then that will be adequate." She was about to open the door to the quarters and leave him until Anderson laid one hand gently upon her shoulder. "Yes, Captain?"

"One more thing, Miss T'Simoni. Shepard told me that you spoke with him about one of our ancestors, a King Solomon from Israel."

"Indeed I did."

"Then I believe that there are one or two things from that book of Proverbs that you may have overlooked."

"And what exactly would those be?"

"Something that I probably should have told Shepard when he told me about the two of you. 'Don't fool around with a woman who intentionally throws herself upon you. Countless victims will fall underneath her spell; she's the death to many a poor man. She runs a halfway house to hell, and will fit you out with a shroud and a coffin.'"

"Humph. At least _you_ appear to have some wisdom. I'll also pretend that it didn't insult me." With that final remark, she indignantly strolled inside the room and let the door close in his face.

Anderson bit his lip in anger and growled to himself. "I hope that they get knocked the hell off of their high horses one day. Goddamned know-it-alls."

Shepard approached him and gave his superior officer a lopsided grin. "Good morning, sir. Did somebody spit on your eggs today?"

Anderson swallowed his anger and brushed it off by counting to five in his head. "No, Shepard. But…well…" He raised a hand up and formed it into a fist as he tried to think of the advice he wanted to give his friend. "Miss T'Simoni and her people will be departing from Arcturus Station in a few hours from now."

"Why? Because of what just happened?" Shepard's face became a question mark.

"Not exactly, but yes, that does have a great deal to do with the reason. You'd better discuss it with her for now. If you want to talk, I'll be in the gym for the next hour…punching the shit out of a bag," he grunted and made his exit.

When Shepard stopped scratching the back of his head, he entered his quarters finally to see Celeste collecting some of her belongings from the bathroom sink. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Anderson said that you're leaving."

"With respect, Shepard, _all_ of my people are leaving this place," she responded nonchalantly and placed her things into a duffel bag.

"But…but why?"

"That reason also escapes me as well, but that was what your commander was just advising me about. I'm well aware of the concept of jealousy, Shepard. It does occur in between the Asari, but it doesn't usually lead up to acts of violence." Celeste opened the closet and peered inside of it.

"Are you afraid that something else is gonna happen...to you…or me, maybe?" He stepped closer to her and leaned up against the wall surrounding the closet.

"No." She laughed through her nose once. "We're both more than capable of handling ourselves, although Sanders did give you quite a rough beating."

"Then…why?"

"Are you _that_ naive, Shepard?" Celeste made eye contact with him incredulously. "We're all leaving because your Alliance doesn't want to risk a diplomatic incident with my government! My mother holds a prestigious position in the Asari government, and my father is a senator in the Hanar parliament."

"And…" he made a sweeping gesture with his right hand, "what about us? What is this? Don't we have something together?"

"You're a sweet man, Shepard. Thanks to you, my perspective on your species' profession has indefinitely changed for the better. But I really didn't want to become…attached." She shook her head and zipped up the duffel bag.

He frowned. "So what _exactly_ was I? Some little toy for your amusement?"

"More or less," she smirked. "Don't get me wrong, Shepard, it's been wonderful." Celeste turned around and pulled him closer to herself by his belt. "Giving is just as important as receiving….hmm…and I can't forget how much your techniques have truly improved ever since we first…well…rolled in the hay?" She gave him a cruel leer. "That's the right expression, isn't it?"

His fists balled themselves up, and he closed his eyes to count to ten to try and calm himself. Before either of her hands could wander away from his belt and touch him, he shoved her away from his body. "Human males can have more emotions than anger or lust, too, you know," he quietly informed her. "But right now, I'm only feeling one of those two. And it _isn't_ lust." Shepard stormed out of the room before he would let his wrath get the better of him.

Arcturus Station, Alliance HQ, December 11, 2178, 0720h

Alliance Weight Room #1

Corporal Beckett held the punching bag the best that he could as his close friend pummeled his gloved fists into it. "Shit, Shepard, you sure move pretty well for after how much you drank last night," he marveled.

"Whereas _you_ hold it like a pussy," Shepard snarled back. "Are you forgetting to keep in shape, Corporal?"

"No, sir. This is doing a lot for me, actually." Beckett tightened his arms around the bag even more after Shepard hit it with a one-two punch. "How's it for you? Good?"

"What do…you…mean?" Shepard huffed in between his blows.

"Well, I knew that you'd be pretty upset after what just happened, but-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Beckett." He gave another wild uppercut to the bag.

"But you gotta do it sometime with someone, man. Punching the hell out of this will sure help, but so do words."

"I…said…not…right…now!"

The door to the room opened, and in walked Anderson, who was dressed in his blue fatigues. "Ten-hut!" he called, and the two soldiers instinctively snapped to attention. He noticed the sweat pouring down both of their bodies; Shepard naturally had more accruing, so he released them about three seconds later. Beckett walked over to the water fountain, while Shepard returned to his previous activity.

"We've been called back into action, gentlemen. All aboard time is at noon," Anderson informed the both of them.

"Understood," the soldiers called out, although Shepard's delivery was more fierce because of his punching.

"Corporal, I'd like to have a word with Shepard alone, if you'd please."

"Aye, aye, sir. Shepard, sir, I'll be down in the mess hall if you wanna join me for a coffee later," Beckett said and made his exit.

"Shepard, this isn't official yet, but due to Staff Lieutenant Sanders' actions, he's been removed from the Hong Kong. And depending upon your behavior during this next assignment, a promotion may be in order for you." Anderson put his hands behind his back as he watched his underling continue to hurtle his fists tirelessly into the bag.

"Really, sir?" Shepard halted his boxing and bent down to pick up a water bottle that was on the ground nearby. "Where're we going?" He took a large swig of the water.

"I can't disclose too much to you at this point, Shepard, but, we'll be out in the Terminus systems."

"The Terminus systems, sir? But-"

"I know. That's why this mission is extremely hush hush. Not even Executive Officer Bose knows too much about it."

"Well, I'll be on board well before noon, sir. I never bring too much gear with me off of the ship, just in case." Shepard shrugged and continued to chug his water.

"Shepard…about what happened in between you and the asari…"

"I'm good, sir. Just came down here to vent a little extra energy this morning is all."

"Did you even eat breakfast, son?" Anderson walked over to a closet, pulled out a towel, and tossed it over to Shepard, who caught it with one hand.

"Yes sir, I did, just a little after oh six hundred." He wiped himself off with the towel.

"Okay, good." He eyed Shepard carefully as if he were wondering that that was the truth.

"I wouldn't lie to you about my health, sir."

"Not your physical health, sure. But what about what's going on up here?" Anderson pointed to his own temple. "How are you doing up there?"

"I don't have much to say about it, sir." Shepard shook his head and deposited the towel into a dirty laundry basket nearby. "May I be dismissed, please, sir? Gonna hit the showers."

"Dismissed, Lieutenant," Anderson agreed. _That boy needs to talk to someone. I don't want this assignment to turn into another incident like Torfan, _he thought.

Orbit of Zatorus, Hercules cluster, Attican Beta Nebula

SSV Hong Kong Briefing Room, December 11, 2178, 1308h

There was much nervous chatter going on about the crew members. Anderson had been even more close-lipped than usual about this particular mission, and no one knew where they were going. The Hong Kong's pilot had only been told to chart his course thus far by the XO and maintain an orbit within this system. After Anderson walked into the room, he didn't even have to tell everyone to quiet down or remove his hat to gain their attention. All conversations ceased instantaneously, and he tapped Shepard on the shoulder on his way to the front of the room. He motioned towards his protege that he wanted him to stand alongside him during the briefing, and Shepard did so on Anderson's left side.

"All right, men, it's time for me to be honest with you all. The rumors that we were going out to scout some new Prothean technology on Eletania are not true, although the Alliance has just funded a new dig with the Asari there. That assignment will be given to another ship. Our mission takes us to the Nubian Expanse into the Terminus systems."

A couple of gasps went around the room. Nobody had expected this. Shepard shifted upon his feet nervously as he listened to the details.

"The Alliance just received a distress call from the planet Fehl Prime. It seems that the remnants of the groups that hit Elysium during the Blitz have decided to attack our colonies in the Terminus systems, thinking that because the Alliance doesn't normally go there, that they'd be safe doing so. They hit the capital city Novizio Columbus pretty hard, and now it's our job to evacuate as many civilians as possible."

Shepard mulled over this new information in his head. He had an uncle on his mother's side, by the name of Harvey Reagan, who happened to own a construction business. He was going to go visit his uncle for the first time with his parents in the fall of 2170, but then the Batarians came to Mindoir. There had to be another reason why the Alliance wanted to help Fehl Prime, but at the moment, he could not properly come up with one.

"2nd Lieutenant Shepard will be taking a small strike team around Novizio Columbus to scout out an ideal drop zone for us. Since we're headed for the Terminus systems, we've unfortunately got very little intel. We don't even have any satellite images, I'm afraid," Anderson announced and shook his head. "Questions, men?"

"Do we know the origin of the distress call, Captain?" a female private inquired. "More importantly, sir, is it legitimate?"

"That's why I plan on sending Shepard's team in to investigate. The rest of the information isn't privy to everyone's ears, Private McCully. Any others?"

The room went silent, and Anderson dismissed everyone but Shepard. "So, whom would you like to take with you?" he wondered.

"You're letting me pick out my own team, sir?" Shepard's eyebrows rose to the ceiling with surprise. Then as he remembered the fact that his uncle might just have been the one to send the distress call, he nodded with understanding. "Was it an anonymous call to the Alliance, sir, or were you just being ambiguous on purpose for my benefit in front of the rest of the crew?"

"Good call, Lieutenant," Anderson agreed. "It was from your uncle, and the signal came from one of his construction sites downtown. What do you know about him?"

"Only that he used to hunt in his spare time, if I can remember from what my mom used to tell me," Shepard rolled his neck from side to side. "So he can definitely handle a weapon and would know how to protect himself as well as some people. My family was gonna go visit him in the fall of '70, but, well…" he trailed off.

"So you've never actually met him?"

"I haven't seen him since I was born, so I don't have too much of a clue for myself as to what kind of a person he is. My mother didn't talk a lot about him. I'm not sure if he was the black sheep of her family or…if the two of them had a falling out…"

"Well, here's hoping that you're able to not only reconnect with him ground side but also bring him aboard to see what kind of a grown-up you turned out to be, Shepard," Anderson said with a tiny smile. "Will you want Corporal Beckett with you?"

"Most definitely, sir. Might I ask what you'll be doing while we're down there?"

"Standing by with the rest of the marines for deployment, of course. Why do you ask, son?"

"Well, sir," Shepard nervously tugged at the neck of his t-shirt. "Damn, this is hard. Uh, I was wondering if…well…you could come with us down there."

Anderson tilted his head to the side with curiosity. "You don't trust anyone else on this ship, Lieutenant?"

"I'm finding it harder more now than ever to find somebody that'll talk to me for more than one minute. Ever since that incident with Staff LT Sanders, it's like they trust me even less." He raked his fingers through the back of his hair. "It feels like they're angry with me for what happened with Celeste."

"Shepard, you shouldn't think like that," Anderson shook his head. "You were only defending yourself as well as her. Sanders was way out of line, and that's why not only did the Brass kick him off of my ship but also demoted him. He's now a 2nd Lieutenant like you. I didn't tell you that earlier because I didn't know that until about five minutes before I boarded."

"Huh, and why should you bother to have two marines of the same rank on your ship?" Shepard mused to himself.

"I already asked the Brass to do that long before you first came onboard the Hong Kong. They knew what you could do because of Torfan, Shepard, but now they want to see more. I wanted someone to take his place eventually, and when we first met on Elysium in October at the VA hospital, I knew that you were different than all the rest."

"Yeah, there are very few soldiers who'd go out and get their whole squads killed just to take on a whole shit load of batarians holed up in a bunker." Shepard smoothed out a couple of wrinkles that he found on his t-shirt. "I'm still not so sure that I did the right thing, though, sir."

Anderson pondered this for a few seconds in his head that seemed like minutes to Shepard. "All right, Lieutenant," he agreed. "XO Bose can lead the rest of the troops. I'll come down there with you."

Shepard's saddened expression immediately warmed. "You will, sir?"

"Affirmative, Lieutenant. But I'll be the one giving the orders. Understood?"

"Aye aye, sir!" Shepard actually beamed and snapped to attention to give his commander a spirited salute.

"Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Novizio Columbus, Fehl Prime, Nubian Expanse system

Downtown, December 11, 2178, 1549h

The landing party of Anderson, Beckett, and Shepard all parachuted down into the urban part of the city. Several stores on the streets were riddled with bullet holes, and the proud glass display cases that once showed off the splendor of what they had to offer to the general public were no more. Cars that were unfortunately parked on both sides of the wide streets were now terribly maimed beyond recognition, turned upside down or on their side to serve as temporary barricades.

"I wish I knew something about this colony," Anderson grumbled. "We don't even have a layout of the city for our hard suit computers; this colony is so new, there aren't any official maps of it yet. It's like we're stuck back in the 20th century or something."

They hid behind a line of the cars, and Beckett's eyes caught an advertisement terminal that was still operational. "I've got something, sir," he informed Anderson. "Maybe if I can get close enough, I can download something to help us."

"We've got your six, Corporal," Shepard nodded.

The corporal edged his way forward and interfaced his omni-tool with the kiosk. Both of his superiors flanked him with their assault rifles as he started his task.

"Anything of use, Beckett?" Anderson inquired.

"Confirmed, sir. There's not only a map of the city and businesses here downtown, but there's also a list of numbers for them. Maybe we could find Shepard's uncle through one of the addresses."

"Sounds a lot easier than wandering around the place blindly waiting to be taken out with a goddamned ambush," Shepard agreed. "Gimme the number."

Moments later, Shepard's omni-tool lit up to acknowledge the data Beckett had uploaded to him. Shepard holstered his rifle, and Anderson held up a hand. "Hold it, Lieutenant. Let's find some real cover before you make that call. I don't like being out in the open here."

"Understood, sir."

The three of them turned around, and Anderson guided them to a travel agency, which had plenty of desks for them to hide behind if things got bad. Shepard typed in the address of Reagan Construction Inc.; it seemed for a while that the number was a dead end, but finally, a scratchy but deep bass voice came across the line. "Hello? Harvey Reagan here. Don't know who you are, but I'm damned glad that some type of communication's still working. Goddamned pirates and batarians have been taking out as many com towers as we just built in the last month. Who is this?"

"Uncle Harvey, this is Lieutenant Shepard, of the Systems Alliance Navy Marines. We're here to get you and as many others outta here ASAP, as well as wipe the planet of all of those SOBs."

"Shepard? No, that can't be right. I heard that that colony got slaughtered and decimated back in '70. I even went there after the Alliance cleared it all out and said that it was safe for civilians to go back! The Shepard residence was nothing but a bunch of rubble, and the town's one and only orphanage was empty."

"I left with the Alliance, Uncle. Mom and Dad are gone, but I survived the attack and made it outta there."

There was some silence on the radio as Reagan appeared to be thinking over Shepard's story. "Look, I know you and Mom weren't close, whether it was because of an argument you had or what, but regardless of that, give me your position. We'll try to get you out of wherever you're currently holed up."

"This has got to be one of the strangest ploys that those scumbags have ever tried…" his uncle scoffed. "And the lowest."

"That's because it's not a ploy, Reagan," Anderson suddenly piped in. "This is Captain David Anderson of the SSV Hong Kong, and what Shepard says here is true. Our ship is currently orbiting your planet and awaiting our scouting report to assess an LZ for our ATVs. Are there any civilians with you?"

"Hmm, I've certainly heard about you before. I've got twelve people with me-used to have eighteen, but, well…not everybody here exactly can or wants to hold a weapon."

"Their transmission's a bit weak, sir. I'm not sure if I can get a fix on their location," Beckett informed Anderson. "Maybe if they boost their signal…"

"Well, I would fire a flare from where we are, but it'd tip off even more slavers and those Batarians to where we're hiding."

"Do you know what they're after, Uncle?" Shepard wondered. "Besides cheap labor?"

"I'd tell you, son, but I think that this channel isn't so secure to talk on."

"Could you at least boost your signal, Mr. Reagan? I've got a program that can triangulate your position," Beckett offered. "I just need a little bit more from you."

"Yeah, this is an older omni-tool. And I only bought it last year, too! I tell ya, the rate of technology is still exploding exponentially these days," Reagan replied with a sigh. "How's that, any better for ya?"

Both Anderson and Shepard anxiously glanced upon their technologically savvy team mate, who was concentrating heavily as he fiddled with his own omni-tool. Thirty seconds later, he had success. "Yep, that'll do, Mr. Reagan, thanks a lot. Are you in any immediate danger?"

"We're okay for now, but we can't move quickly from one location to another. One of my employees that I'm with now has been shot in the leg. I managed to stop the bleeding and give him some medi-gel, but…running isn't an option."

"Just hold on, Uncle. We'll be there soon," Shepard told him and broke the communication.

*A/N* Yes, that was a completely callous thing that Celeste did. I'm also willing to bet that none of you were going to catch that; Aria T'Loak isn't the only cold and calculating asari in the galaxy, you know. I almost considered making Celeste her daughter but then decided against it because that would make it all the more delicious. Not only has Shepard been in bed with Liara, but also someone who's partially related to her. (Yes, if you've played ME3, this is the daughter that Matriarch Aethyta was talking about). Yeah, I know...creepy, and there were chills that ran down this particular Shepard's spine when he heard Matriarch Aethyta mention this after he convinced Liara to talk to her 'father'. I'm pretty sure that he felt nauseous, too. But I did want to establish why on earth Shepard would have done what he did with Liara later on. This was the very event that caused him to be less than considerate not only of Liara's feelings but also Miranda's as well (later on, of course). It's not justifiable in the least bit, but mistakes can be forgiven, can't they? On a side note, I know that I took a liberty with stating where Fehl Prime was. I looked that information up in Mass Wiki but could not find it out.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Orbit of Ferris Fields, Hawking Eta cluster, Chandrasekhar system

MSV Anastasia, December 11, 2178, 1732h

The Anastasia was a small cargo freighter with ten crew members not including Miranda nor Captain O'Neill. Miranda mostly kept to herself but would occasionally engage her fellow ship mates in conversation when approached. She laid on the charm when necessary and actually forced herself to make small talk. Isabella Solheim was an Alliance geologist with two sisters and raised upon Earth. When humans decided to colonize the galaxy, her family went to Eden Prime. Miranda even had a holo ready upon her omni-tool to show the crew members of her 'husband', who also served with her in the Alliance. It was actually a holo of some random soldier from a recruitment ad.

After she consumed half of a glass of water in the small kitchen, she dumped the rest of it down the sink and glanced upon her omni-tool to make note of the time. It was time to put her scheme into action. Miranda brought a timed explosive with her just in case her plan to overload the drive core itself failed. The bomb had been cleverly disguised as a data pad, so that anyone who saw it sitting around in the engine control room would certainly not identify it as anything suspicious. Once she had it placed and armed, she would have two hours to make her rendezvous with Marcellus Denorian.

Miranda strolled back to the crew quarters and sent Denorian her current coordinates. He immediately sent a message back to her claiming that he would be there within the hour since his ship had followed her to Omega. She retrieved the explosive data pad from the storage compartment in front of her bunk bed and made her way down to the engine control room. She also double checked her pistol and patted the pocket upon her thigh to assure herself that the silencer was still indeed there. When she boarded the ship, no one dared to ask her why she was armed. All scientists in the Alliance had to take at least a few courses in marksmanship before they could take assignments upon uncharted worlds. There were also cameras in the engine control room as well as the entire ship, but those could easily be destroyed with an EMP charge.

The two engineers there smiled and greeted Miranda by her pseudonym. She engaged one of them in idle chatter, and while he was distracted, she 'absent-mindedly' left the explosive data pad upon his console. His female counterpart was not particularly encouraged when Miranda began to flirt with him and chose to mumble curses at him under her breath as she kept herself busy maintaining the He -3 fuel lines.

Miranda eventually left his side to go look at the drive core and used this moment while neither engineer was paying attention to her to affix the silencer to the carnifex pistol. She holstered it again and asked the male engineer a technological question. He started to answer it, but she claimed that she couldn't understand him because of the loud drive core. He made the unwise decision to join her, and she coldly shot him in the back of the head twice.

She next calmly strolled back to the console where the female engineer was, overloaded the security cameras with her omni-tool, and efficiently disposed of her all within thirty seconds' time. An incoming message upon her omni-tool told her that Denorian had just made it through the mass relay and was closing in upon the Anastasia's orbit. Miranda put away the pistol and accessed the ship's drive core systems through the ECR's console. She would have precisely eight minutes to get off of the ship from the instigation of the drive core meltdown. The rub of the circumstances was that if anyone found out about this meltdown, they could cancel it within two minutes.

But Miranda had planned for that situation well ahead of time after O'Neill had taken her for a tour of the ship. There were two entrances to the ECR, and neither one of the doors could be remotely opened from anywhere else on the ship. All she had to do was to locally sabotage them from the outside. "Password was his wife's first name. Ignoramus," Miranda scoffed as she easily accessed the engineer's account. One minute later, her sabotage to the drive core computer was finished.

"Alert. Drive core system malfunction," a male VI announced all throughout the ECR. "Systems alert. Drive core malfunction. Access drive core to eliminate meltdown. This can be averted in two minutes or less by-"

"Shut up." Miranda frowned upon the avatar, charged up her implant, and fired a heavy warp field not only into the VI terminal but one into the drive core computer as well. Both objects immediately ceased to operate, and sparks began to pour out of both electronic devices. Lawson accessed the data pad's timer and armed the bomb. She then disabled both of the ECR access doors once she was outside and queued the button for the elevator.

As soon as it came, in it was one crew member who had been sent down, probably by O'Neill to see why neither engineer was responding to his hails. Miranda slammed him against the wall with one arm holding him down while the other choked him to death in her powerfully strong grip. His struggles subsided within twenty seconds, and he fell to the floor beneath her. As she traveled up to the crew deck to collect her belongings, she nonchalantly passed by two crew members who broke out into a sprint. "What the hell happened to Brenner?" one of them asked her upon his discovery of the dead crew man.

"Guess he fainted. I'm not a medical doctor," she shrugged and continued to march purposefully towards the crew accommodations.

"Oh my god," the other one gasped as he felt Brenner's neck for a pulse. "He's-"

He never got to finish his sentence before Miranda's pistol silenced him forever and the one who questioned her, too. She got to her destination, opened up the locker, and took out the only thing she really needed, which was a breather mask and a small tank with about fifteen minutes' capacity of oxygen. Before the solitary crew member in there could turn around to ask what was going on, Miranda also killed him with a bullet to the back of the skull at point blank range.

Miranda next went up to the bridge, disposed of the navigational officers except for the pilot, and strolled up to him last. "Is the ship on autopilot?" she asked, shoving her gun into his face.

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat the question. You heard me." Her eyes went towards his digits, which were probably about to try and alert O'Neill, who was likely in his quarters. "If your fingers touch that intercom, you'll never have use of them again."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I don't have time for pleasantries. Is this ship on autopilot or not?"

"Yeah, but there's something wrong with the drive core. I can't access it."

"You obviously weren't the cream of the crop in your flight school," Miranda said and rolled her eyes. "And I won't require your services any longer, nor will Captain O'Neill." Before he could begin to plead for his life, she ended it with a shot to his face.

Miranda secured the canister to her weapon belt and put on the breather mask. As Marcellus Denorian's ship pulled up next to the Anastasia, a docking tube from his ship came towards it. O'Neill finally came up to the bridge from his cabin and gave her a befuddled look. "What the hell?" he started and pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You…you aren't from the Alliance!"

"Not officially, no," Miranda said with a smirk, and without another word, she activated the airlock seal. Denorian's ship then pulled away from the exploding Anastasia a few moments afterward then went through the mass relay less than thirty seconds later.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Solheim. I assume your plan was a success?" Marcellus questioned her as she removed her breather mask.

"It was, and your timing was quite impeccable, Mr. Denorian."

"I'm taking you back to Nos Astra, right?"

"That was the plan," she agreed. "As soon as I safely step onto Illium's soil, I'll relinquish those other six thousand credits to your account." She stood behind his chair and folded her arms across her chest as if she were supervising the flight. "Damn."

"Something wrong?"

"Just remembered that I left a perfectly good outfit onboard that ship," she shrugged. "Oh well. I have many more just like it."

"Would you care to have a seat in the co-pilot's chair?" he gestured to his right. "We'll get to the Tasale system in about four hours. I've got to fuel up first."

Miranda reluctantly sat next to him and stared at the holographic interface in front of her. She had many talents; flying a ship was one thing that she could not do.

Novizio Columbus, Fehl Prime, Nubian Expanse system

Downtown, December 11, 2178, 1910h

Anderson's team demolished the pirates, slavers, and batarians that had been encroaching upon the building that his uncle was attempting to hold. Unfortunately, as they got to the unfinished room where Reagan was, he had been wounded. Anderson and Beckett escorted Reagan's employees downstairs, and he called in reinforcements.

Shepard approached the desk his uncle was lying behind and activated his omni-tool. "Uncle Harvey? It's me, your nephew." He bent down upon his knees. "Hold still while I give you some medi-gel."

Reagan was fading in and out of consciousness due to his tremendous blood loss. "Oh, there you are," he said and opened his eyes. "Spittin' image of your mother. And you've got your father's long jawline. Wish they could see you now-Alliance marine and…what did you say your rank was?"

"2nd Lieutenant. Uncle Harvey, what were the batarians after?"

Reagan's grip tightened upon his assault rifle and hugged it closer to his body as he felt the medi-gel cauterize his wound. "Sons of bitches stole some valuable paintings that I was gonna give to you. Not sure if I'm gonna make it, son."

"Stay strong, Uncle. I lost my folks, but I'm not gonna lose you, too." Shepard placed a hand onto his relative's shoulder. "Now tell me, what did those assholes want?"

"There's a plant here that makes weapons." He paused to draw in a labored breath. "Weapons for the Blue Suns; it's just up the hill from here. Think they're gonna hit it soon from what I…heard…on…the radio."

"I'll let my commander know. Thanks, Uncle Harv."

"Glad I've seen you now that you're…all grown-up now."

"Don't talk like that. I'll make sure that our doc in the med bay is ready for you. We're gonna get you outta here." Shepard stood back up and turned on his mic. "Captain Anderson, sir? We gotta get my uncle outta here now-he's bleeding pretty badly. I just stopped it and gave him a medi-gel, but…-"

"Roger that, Lieutenant. What did those bastards want?"

"Blue Suns' weapon facility. It's pretty close by, from what my uncle was saying."

"I'll pass the word along to XO Bose. Can you handle your uncle by yourself, or do you need some help getting him down to the ground floor?"

"I don't think I should move him alone, sir; it'll do more damage than good."

"Beckett's on his way back up to you, Shepard."

"Aye aye, sir. And thank you."

About twenty minutes later, the doctor on the Hong Kong was attending to Reagan's every need while Shepard waited anxiously outside with Anderson. Beckett had joined the rest of the marines while they annihilated the remainder of the pirates, slavers, and batarians.

"Shepard, I know you're feeling helpless right now, but don't let it get you down. We did good work down there. Those colonists are now safe, and you obeyed every single one of my commands. Despite what you've been through, son, you came through," Anderson told him as his subordinate paced the floor.

"It's never good enough for me, sir. I don't think that I should be promoted for this mission," Shepard shook his head. "I didn't lead that squad; you did. You wanted me to step up to the plate, but I just couldn't."

"Well lucky for you, you're not the one making the decisions, Lieutenant." Anderson leaned a foot against the wall and crossed his arms. "When Bose and the troops get back, I'm sending my report, along with my recommendation to promote you to a 1st Lieutenant."

"But sir-"

"Enough, Shepard." Anderson gave him a hard look. "You deserve it. Stop beating yourself up for things that are out of your control. And if you want to earn respect with these men and women, you're going to have to take charge. I thought you learned that by now."

"The last time I took charge, sir, I lost nine other teammates." Shepard collected the dog tags out from underneath his breast plate to look at them. "These are all the originals; the Alliance just sent copies to their families." He shook his head. "Guess they didn't want me to forget my decision."

"And there will be more, son; it's part of life. Even politicians that just push buttons to make people die sometimes doubt themselves."

The doctor finally emerged from the infirmary. "You can go in now, Lieutenant. I've done what I can for him, but…" he shrugged. "He doesn't have much time left. Maybe an hour or so."

Shepard went inside and pulled a seat up next to his uncle. Reagan turned his head slowly over towards his nephew and gave him the best smile he could possibly muster. "Well, look who's here," he chuckled. "The best damn soldier in the Alliance."

"Wish I could accept that praise, Uncle Harv," Shepard shook his head. "It's hardly true."

"You're too much like your mother," Reagan said and coughed. "Neither of you can take compliments very well."

"Uncle, can I ask…what happened to you and Mom? We were planning on visiting you here before the Batarians came, but…I never heard you talk to each other on the vid com. Was this supposed to be a surprise, or did you know about it? She and Dad didn't talk about you much, either."

"Well, it's still a surprise, Shepard, because until you told me, I had no idea that the three of you were gonna come. She was…upset with something I did way before you were born, even before she and your father got married." Reagan looked away for a moment sadly, and he bit his lip. "Your dad was a farmer, son, but before that, he was also in construction like me."

"He was?"

"Yep, and we were business partners. That's how your parents met, boy. But your dad and I got into an argument about how to run things."

"So what happened, did he quit?"

Reagan clenched his teeth as he felt some pain hit him. "No, I uh…I threatened him with blackmail and forced him to give up his half of the business."

Shepard's expression changed into anger. "What'd you do to him?"

"There was a woman he was involved with earlier in life, way before he met your mother, but she was just under the age of eighteen. Luckily, the law didn't know about it, but I did, and that's what I threw into his face to make him do it."

"Didn't you ever apologize? Did you even go to their wedding?" Shepard demanded.

"I did-both of those things, as a matter of fact. But your mother was so stubborn; ironically, your father did forgive me, by the way."

"Maybe she wanted to make amends for that one day."

"I'll uh…unfortunately never know," Reagan said and inhaled sharply. "But at least I got to meet you finally…in the flesh."

"Did you know what I looked like? Did Dad ever send you any holos of me?"

"He did when you were born, but afterward, well…I fell out of contact with him. It was partially my fault." Reagan's gaze wandered away from his nephew. "So, this is what an Alliance warship looks like…"

"Wish we had a hover chair so I could show you everything in person." Shepard stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, I just had a thought. Uncle Harv, I've got a vid camera on my omni-tool. You want a virtual tour of the Hong Kong through your omni-tool?"

Reagan smiled wistfully, knowing that he didn't have much time left in this universe and chuckled. "I'd like that. But before you go rushing off to start, you need to know something first."

"What's that?" Shepard arose from the stool.

"Both of your folks would be proud of you. And even though I wasn't such a great uncle to you or brother to your mother, so am I, boy."

"You saved those people and the colony." Shepard's brows furrowed. "Their families owe a lot to you."

"Well…why don't you start with the engine room and go from there, boy?" he coughed again and brought his hand up weakly to cover his mouth. He then reached shakily to turn on his omni-tool. "Ready when you are."

Shepard took one last look at his uncle and animated his own omni-tool. "Okay, well, here's the med bay, but you're already acquainted with what this looks like. Just gimme a minute to get down to the ECR. The elevator takes six years to get there." He stepped inside the lift and hit the button.

"Impatience runs in the genes. Your dad never could wait for anything either," Reagan muttered.

When the elevator got to the third floor, Shepard walked out and made sure he took his time with everything. "Here's the eezo drive core. Don't ask me to start spouting off any technical specs. The engineers know all that."

"Lieutenant Shepard, sir," one of them greeted him with a salute.

"As you were, Engineer Bradley," Shepard nodded. "I'm just showing my uncle what our drive core looks like and all."

"You ever want a ship to command of your own, Shepard?" Reagan wondered.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet, Uncle Harv."

"Well, you should. You're young; you should set all your goals now so you can either laugh at 'em later or look at how much you did with what little you had."

"Sir, is that the man who personally held off about fifty slavers, pirates, and Batarians?" Engineer Bradley inquired.

"It is, Bradley," Shepard agreed. "I'm not the only hero of the family."

"I didn't do it alone. There were a few of my employees who helped me," Reagan wheezed.

"Give credit where it's due, Uncle. You called us, not them."

"How 'bout the bridge? What's it look like from where your ship's pilot sits?"

"On my way there next, Uncle Harv." As Shepard journeyed upstairs, his uncle began to dip in and out of consciousness. "Stay with me, Harv. I'm nearly there. You should see this, it's really beautiful."

Shepard accidentally brushed past a couple of navigational officers on his way. "I don't know how they do it, but all of these people up here make the calculations of how much fuel we need to get where we go as well as how long it'll take us to get where we go and also how far," he told Reagan.

Reagan's eyes closed momentarily. "Uncle Harv?"

"Mmm…still here," his voice was now like a whisper. "Harder…to…breathe…"

"You can do it, Uncle. Hang on just a little longer," Shepard urged him and asked the pilot to retract the armor that normally covered the cockpit. "What do you think, Uncle?"

"Wow. Glad…I saw…thank you, boy. Maybe…if you don't mind…I'll get some…sleep now." Reagan's head fell to one side as he passed on into the next world.

Shepard grimaced and turned off his vid camera, thanked the pilot, and made his way back down to the infirmary, where the doctor respectfully laid a sheet over Reagan's head. "Lieutenant, I know that now's not an easy time, but, what would you like for us to do with the body?" he asked.

"Let Anderson decide. I don't know," Shepard shook his head and trudged back outside to the crew mess, where Beckett sat with two mugs of hot chocolate. "Expecting someone, Corporal?"

"Yes, sir-you. Come on, we haven't spoken to each other for a while now."

Shepard begrudgingly joined his comrade in arms across the table. The other marines who chatted amicably in the mess with one another now left to continue their conversations elsewhere. He rolled his eyes upon their actions and picked up the mug that Beckett slid across the table to him. "Why do they keep doing that?"

"Propriety, sir. I actually did ask them to leave once you sat down," Beckett replied and stirred the hot beverage around his mug with a spoon.

Shepard gazed upon the steam that escaped his drink and put his hands around it for some warmth. "Pretty chilly in here tonight. Think I could bribe Engineer Bradley to turn up the heat?"

"Well, since we can do that ourselves in the sleeping pods, I doubt that they'll waste the fuel on two marines' whims."

"You haven't seen me in action, Beckett. I can wheel and deal like nobody's business, and I happen to know for a fact that Bradley's quite partial to Batarian ale. And I also might happen to know where Mess Sgt. Simpson keeps the key for the liquor that's not stocked up in the fridge."

"You sneaky son of a bitch," Beckett laughed, and his tone grew more serious. "I'm sorry about your uncle, sir."

"Yeah, so am I." Shepard fell silent and blew the steam off of the hot chocolate to take a minuscule sip of it.

"Wish that I knew most of my family; I grew up in a Catholic orphanage in Lincoln, Nebraska in the States back on Earth. The part of the country's called the bread basket on account of all the wheat that grows there."

"What happened to your folks?"

"There was a transport crash. My mom went into premature labor and died from the complications soon after. I'm not so sure about my dad." Beckett lifted the mug to his lips and consumed the hot liquid. "Maybe he named me, maybe not."

"There're all sort of jokes that I've heard about those Catholic orphanages."

"Oh yeah?"

"You got any nun-inflicted scars that you wanna talk about?"

"None that I didn't deserve," Beckett chortled. "Tell me, man, honestly, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shepard stiffened up, and the smile that had been on his face disappeared.

"With all due respect, sir, that's complete bullshit."

"Maybe."

"Sir, there's nothing wrong with two marines talking about how they feel." He gestured with his head towards the empty mess. "That's another reason why I asked them all to clear out once you joined me here. You're more than upset."

"I…I'm not good at this." He put the mug down and stared at it.

"I'm no shrink, so that makes two of us. Just clear the air, sir. I'm here to listen. If you want advice, Anderson's the one to give it to you."

Shepard sighed loudly. "I didn't think that my feelings would be that easy to hurt…with Celeste, I mean. Thought my scales were a bit harder than that to break."

"Yeah, what a tramp she turned out to be," Beckett shook his head. "Maybe it's better that the Brass kicked them all off of the station. She could've hurt even more people, and who the hell knows what kind of things her friends would've tried? As much as I talked about how much of a pleasure it'd be to get laid with one, I'd sure as hell choose a human over that Celeste any day. I'd take the ugliest woman with the sweetest heart over her in a second."

"They think they can outsmart us all, don't they?"

"Well, they do run the galaxy. At least they don't try to dominate it."

"Politics is just a fucking nasty business. Maybe the next time I shack up with an asari, I'll make sure that neither of her parents are involved in any sort of government business."

"Or that neither of them care about the two of you."

"The Alliance shouldn't kowtow to aliens so much." Shepard drank more of the hot chocolate. "It's like they've got a big target on their asses that says pucker up and kiss me right here."

"What's wrong with a little friendly cooperation?"

"Nothing, especially if it gets us some new technology out of the deal. I'm just saying that if something big ever comes up out of the blue to threaten the whole galaxy, we humans just need to be able to stand on our own. If we keep running to them for help, we'll all end up extinct like the dinosaurs."

"I see your point, sir. Feel a little better now?" Beckett questioned him.

"Yeah, thanks, Corporal."

Nos Astra, Illium, Tasale system, Crescent Nebula

Miranda's Apartment, December 11, 2178, 2132h

After she finished taking a very long shower, Miranda noticed that she had a message flashing upon her omni-tool as it lay upon her night stand. The identity of the caller was 'Operative 8, Highlander Station', which definitely piqued her curiosity. She didn't have any ongoing projects with him, but it's possible that the Illusive Man directly contacted him while she was undercover. She knew very few of the operatives' names by their numbers, but this was one that she knew. Or at least it was an assumed name; this was the very man that helped her ascend to the rank of second in command of Ceberus, Operative Charon.

It was Charon who took her under his wing, so to speak, from the very beginning. In a way, he gave her more encouragement that her father never did. Charon kept their relationship mostly professional, and he was the one who taught her not to let her emotions get the better of her, no matter what. _If the enemy sees you bleeding, they'll never let you stop, _he once told her.

Miranda ran her thick brunette tresses through a hair dryer and interfaced her omni-tool with the moderately large vid screen in the master bedroom. There was also one downstairs, but she decided against it and began to brush her hair as she waited for Operative Charon to answer. "Well, well, well," his rich baritone voice welcomed her. "I had hoped you wouldn't be too busy for an old friend this evening, Ms. Lawson."

"Hello to you as well," she gave him a tight-lipped smile. "What can I do for you, Charon? Did the Illusive Man call you?"

"No. I haven't spoken with him for nearly a year now, since most of his assignments now trickle down through you." There was a hint of pride in that reply.

"Which do you prefer?"

"I didn't know that I had a choice in the matter." His eyebrows lifted upward, almost in surprise. "I'd like to see you in person, if I may."

"When?"

"In a month or so. I'm on Earth at the moment, in Vancouver, B.C. Have you ever been there before?" She shook her head 'no'. "The place is very enchanting. I prefer Victoria myself, but, it'd be silly to try and recruit disgruntled Alliance soldiers there, since the base is in Vancouver."

"I didn't think that you'd trouble yourself with that sort of thing anymore." Miranda plopped herself onto a large jade velvet covered straight back chair and rested her long legs upon the ottoman.

"Normally, I do leave it to someone else, but there is a very large ceremony being held to honor the heroes of the Skyllian Blitz, both living and dead. I won't be alone, of course, there are several others who will be joining me. We just won't necessarily be covering the same territory, so to speak." As was his usual custom for the evening before he retired, he consumed a large gulp of his brandy from a snifter.

"Will this meeting be for business or for pleasure?"

"I think that you'll remember from our earlier days that a little of both is not a bad thing." He swirled the liquid around to keep its warm temperature.

"How could I forget?" A few pleasant memories of some of their chats came back to her. "I imagine that I could manage to get away from Illium for a day or so. Very well, I'll see you in a month from today."

"You might just find another pair of exquisite leather boots here as well. Do you still fancy Pantofola d'Oro, or do you prefer Mercanti Fiorentini?"

She made a short exhale through her nose; it was nearly a laugh. "You remember me all too well."

"When your transport touches down onto Canadian soil, give me a call, and I'll come pick you up." He lifted his snifter up in the air towards her. "Until then, Miranda." Charon ended the conversation.

**A/N**-The captain of the merchant ship Miranda destroyed is named after the famous protagonist from Stargate (O'Neill). I loved the SG-1 series until the ninth season, then it got a bit outlandish with the new enemy the writers created. Also, Shepard's friend and original character Albert Beckett is named after the famous TV scientist Dr. Sam Beckett and his constant companion Al from the Quantum Leap series back in the 1990s. I'd recommend watching some of that if any of you have spare time. Now that series had a strange ending, too, but at least it mostly made sense.

Incidentally, if you're curious about the Operative Charon character, take a look at my other story called "Equivocation". It's about a character of my own creation; she's an amalgamation of Miranda Lawson and Ashley Williams. He and Miranda talk about her briefly in the next chapter.

If you're like me and love music, give a listen to the artist Emerson Hart. He wrote a really nice ballad called "I Wish the Best For You", and I had it playing in the background while I was writing the scene with him and his uncle. It does lean towards two people who are in love, but...you could take the song to another context.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Vancouver, B.C., Canada, Earth

Kingston Bar and Grille, January 13, 2179, 1402h

Lawson had checked into her hotel after Charon had dropped her off and given her the location for their meet. The sports bar wasn't too bad; it had a patio with plenty of umbrellas as well as shade and naturally inside were several huge vid screens airing multiple games. She immediately knew where he was sitting; a bottle of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc sat in a bucket with ice beside him. He was currently enraptured with a few data pads, and it wasn't until she approached the table that he looked up.

With a snap of his fingers, the waitress that had been standing by the door spun around upon her heel and brought out two chilled Riedel wine glasses. She offered to pour the wine, but he silently held up a hand and shook his head 'no.'

"Thank you for coming. Have you had lunch yet?" he inquired and removed the bottle to do so.

"I had some before I left the hotel. The food there was passable, though I'm not sure if I'd partake in any of the evening meals that they offer."

"This place is all right, if you can tolerate the noise."

"Yes, I have to admit that I was rather curious why we'd be meeting here and not somewhere more…upscale," Miranda remarked as she looked about the restaurant.

"Business with pleasure, remember?" He held up his glass to offer her a silent 'cheers' and inhaled the wine's light bouquet. "Ah. I smell a hint of citrus in there. Thoughts, Ms. Lawson?"

Miranda also lifted the glass up to her nose. "Grapefruit, perhaps?"

"Your olfactory senses are still quite superior," he chuckled and tasted some of the alcohol.

She gazed upon the bottle's label. "Now I _know_ you're stroking my ego and trying to win some sentimental points, Charon. A Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough valley…I haven't had this…well, it's been _years_."

"Strange that a common sports bar would have it on hand, isn't it?"

"Not so much," she shook her head and let the wine ease down her throat. "I saw the bottle sitting in your rental when you insisted upon putting my luggage in the trunk yourself."

"Perhaps you could've been an investigator in another life. I'm rather fond of how my generation used to view the fairer sex, before biotics came into play and made us all potentially equal. What do you think I want from you, Miranda?"

She laughed and crossed one leg over the other. "I was supposed to ask that from you next, you cheeky bastard."

"Touche."

"How's your latest protege faring? Her name hasn't come across my dossiers too often since she botched Project Skywalker."

"Ah, Serena. She's been doing some piloting for my other agents' missions recently and not so much field work ever since then, actually."

"She did complicate things with Harkin. However, we did manage to eventually plant someone else in C-Sec despite that." Miranda's fingers traced random patterns onto the foot of the glass.

"Observe the company we keep inside, if you can." His eyes led hers to the crowd of rowdy Alliance marines participating in the sporting events. He remained quiet while she studied them all for the next minute or so. "The possible targets I have in mind is one Jacob Taylor, that black cadet over there who just recently joined the Alliance. The other on the opposite end of the bar with the dark brown hair and without a red beret is 2nd Lt. Shepard, a veteran who's been in their ranks for the past eight years."

"The one with the flawless profile, square jaw, and stubble?"

"That's the one, leaning against the barstool." He paused to clear his throat. "I just so happen to have their service records upon my person today. Would you perhaps care to take a glimpse?"

Before Miranda could answer, he slid the data pads over to her. She moved her glass of wine to the side and quickly read them. "Shepard was in the battle of Torfan, so I'd say that he's the sort that believes that the end can justify the means. However, he has been with the Alliance longer than Taylor," Charon went on. "He'll be much more difficult to convince."

"Yes, it says here that Taylor has a problem with authority. He just graduated from the Academy last month and had several demerits listed here," Miranda observed. "Perhaps exploiting his distrust for politicians or the Alliance's abilities to hold power over alien races would serve as a fruitful tactic for you. Both he and Shepard are biotics, although it looks as if Shepard's got a few more talents listed here than Taylor."

"He's young, so there's room for improvement, but we could _always _use more people with biotic talents."

"Taylor's less of a gambit than Shepard, that's for sure. Neither of them have any siblings or are married, so that's better for us. No family means no reasons to stay tied down to any Alliance bases or to a home planet. I'd need to speak to either of them to get a better picture of their motivations or character."

"So whom do you think I should approach? That's why I asked you here. Your first impressions are usually the right ones, Miranda. Neither soldier appears to know the other, so that's an advantage that I already have in the cards, so to speak." He took another drink of the wine, as did she.

"Why not both?" she shrugged. "I'm quite surprised that you haven't asked me to do so myself, Charon."

"You've never been much of a people person, Miranda. That's one thing about you that I could never see change."

"Hmm, well, it's too bad that you didn't mention this after my first glass was already gone. I might have tried to talk to Shepard myself; you know how much I like a challenge." The corners of her mouth widened ever so slightly. "He's not unpleasant to look at, even from a distance." She gave him a second glance and clicked her tongue to up to the roof of her mouth. "But now you'll never know, will you?"

Lawson finished the glass and arose. "Thanks for the drink; I'll be on my way back to my hotel. I've got some work to do."

"Wait, wait, there. You're not getting away so easily from me." He lifted his index finger skyward, and her left eyebrow arose in question. "Something tells me that you're withholding some information."

"How-"

"Remember how you came to be from whence you came." He drank some more of the wine.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Speak plainly, Charon. I'm not in the mood for the sagacious act you're putting on."

"Then perhaps you'll come clean with me. You don't normally give men a second glance unless you're mildly interested in _something _that he has to offer. Whether you're thinking about business or pleasure, that I cannot tell right now, but-"

"Fine." Her brusque response told him that she was desperately trying to hold back an embarrassed flush from her face. He'd immediately see that as a weakness and exploit it somehow. She wouldn't dare to give him the opportunity. "Operative 14 has informed me that something went very wrong with a relationship that Shepard and some asari shared. As a result of it, another officer was demoted and banished from Captain Anderson's service. She and her entire party of visiting colleagues were also expelled from Arcturus Station."

"Did he say what specifically went wrong with the relationship?"

"No, but it's fairly obvious." Her hand went to her hip.

"Thank you, Miranda. That intel will help me a great deal." He beamed widely. "Could I drag you away from work for dinner tonight? It'll be on me, of course; it's the least I could do for making you come all this way to see me."

"As long as you bring that wine with you, you can count on it. What time shall we meet?"

"I'll pick you up at your hotel around six thirty this evening. The Alliance ceremony that both soldiers will likely attend begins at four, and I don't expect that it'll end until five thirty. Traffic here like in any big city is murder during rush hour."

"I'll see you then, Charon."

As she left, Miranda threw a backward glance over her shoulder back at the bar; Shepard caught her eyes for a few moments. They seemed to pierce right through hers as if he wanted to worm his way right into her very thoughts, but as one of his cohorts tugged upon his shirt, he quickly turned his attention back to the baseball game. _He's not an Alliance cardboard cutout. There's something about him that's different, like he's got a magnetism about him, _she thought. _He would be most useful to us. I wish Charon luck; recruiting him will certainly be no easy task._

When she turned her head back around to depart the bar, little did she know that his eyes swept up and down her body with a second gaze that was extremely heated.

Alliance Base #4, North America, Earth

Just outside the memorial cemetery, January 13, 2178, 1737h

Shepard stared at the medal and the piece of paper that he had just received during the award ceremony to commemorate the lives of those who had either given their lives, performed some brave actions during the Skyllian Blitz, or other campaigns. The paper now informed him that Anderson had truly vouched for his conduct during the last mission on Fehl Prime; he was now a 1st Lieutenant. Having one of the most decorated officers in the Alliance put in a good word for his actions certainly did help him, but this was proof that he had truly earned his way. Maybe Uncle Harvey was right.

Anderson patted Shepard on the shoulder as they walked outside the bronze gates that led to the cemetery. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. What do you say to another steak dinner?" he gave his underling a huge beam.

"Thank you, sir. But I think that I'd like to try something a little different tonight. Maybe we could try something with a little more panache."

"Panache?" Anderson's eyes twinkled. "Corporal Beckett's _really_ been rubbing off on you these days, hasn't he?"

"That doesn't bother you, does it, sir? I mean, we are dressed appropriately," he glanced down upon his dress blue uniform. Anderson naturally had more chest candy, but Shepard also had a pretty impressive amount upon his own that hung above his left breast.

"What've you got in mind, Shepard?"

"Have you ever been to a place called Bridges Restaurant? I think it overlooks the harbor of English bay. I happened to run across it this afternoon while I was browsing the extranet."

"No, but I'm always open to trying new places to grab some decent chow. Get the driving directions and we'll head over there ASAP. Let me go get the car." Anderson gave him another smile and left to complete his task.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Shepard?" A man with salt and pepper colored hair and a very distinguished pin striped suit approached him. His jet black trench coat's collar was up; the coat itself parted slightly more, and Shepard saw an amber split hexagonal logo upon both of the suit coat's lapels. The man was also sporting a pair of tinted glasses over his eyes. "Might I have a moment of your time?"

"What do you want?" Shepard's defenses immediately went up; he wasn't sure if he liked this man or not. He seemed to be putting on airs; his expression was difficult to read.

"Congratulations upon your acts of valor and upon your new promotion."

"Praise from a total stranger can only lead to trouble." Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Come out and say what you have to say; you've got thirty seconds to keep my attention."

"Today you've been awarded a medal for what you've done, Lieutenant. But what if something happened that wasn't you fault? They'd strip you of your medal, honor, court-martial you, and throw you into the brig faster than you can say mass relay," Operative Charon stated with a matter of fact tone. "A soldier like yourself that belongs to the special forces unit doesn't belong in jail. There's a reason why you've risen up in the ranks so quickly."

"Yeah. I earned them, and your time's running out, buddy."

"I've seen this happen to more Alliance soldiers than I can count on all of my fingers." Charon held up both hands.

"Good for you. And so can I; wrap it up," Shepard tersely stated.

"All that I ask is that you meet me at the address listed upon this card at the allotted time. Time is a commodity, and I don't wish to waste yours any longer. Thank you, Lt. Shepard." Charon gave him a closed mouth smile and presented Shepard with an old fashioned business card.

"This whole thing sounds like a sham, and you're a little too much of a charlatan for my tastes," he scoffed as he studied the card. "Next thing I know, you're gonna tell me that you can pull a rabbit outta that same pocket your card came from."

"I represent an unofficial branch of the Alliance, Lt. Shepard. Everything we do is aboveboard and given their sanction."

"Is this address your headquarters?"

"No. It's a place that we'll meet in order to get to a base of operations in this fine city. Good day to you." With that, Charon spun upon his heel in the opposite direction just as Anderson pulled the car up to the curb. He opened the door for Shepard and gave Shepard's visitor an odd look.

"Who was that?" Anderson demanded.

"Just some salesman," Shepard replied ambiguously and shoved the card into his trouser's pocket as he got inside.

Neither commanding officer nor subordinate said another word until they arrived at Bridges Restaurant. Their hostess seated them directly near a window at a table set for two and lit the power cell candle on the center of the table with the flick of a switch on the bottom. "Your server is named Michelle, gentlemen, and she'll be with you shortly," the hostess told them after handing them two separate data pads that served as the menus.

"Wow. I'm not quite sure what to think of all this stuff," Anderson said as his eyes speedily read over the information. "I don't even know what half of the menu says."

"There aren't any explanations on yours beside each entry? There are on mine," Shepard replied with a wrinkle in his forehead. "Well, I meant that there are to an extent; I'm no expert on the French language. And I've yet to delve into their culinary expressions."

"Maybe that's because you're looking at our French menu," their waitress observed as she came to their table. "I apologize, sir. Let me adjust that for you." She hit a couple of quick keystrokes on the data pad, and the language instantly changed.

"Thanks a lot," Anderson laughed at himself and scratched the back of his head. "I knew that you could do that, but I just wasn't sure which shortcut I was supposed to use. All the companies that make these nowadays should just adhere to one standard; it'd be much easier for everyone."

"Tell me about it; that's the only thing our guests complain about," Michelle returned gently and eyed the table's occupants. "We've got a drink special today of two for one, and all Alliance soldiers or officers get a twenty percent discount. What can I start you gentlemen off with?"

"Dewar's on the rocks-make it a double. Shepard, pick your poison."

"Alexander Keith's sounds good. I've never had it before-it's domestic, right?" He made eye contact with Michelle as she filled their water goblets.

"That it is, sir; it's made all over the provinces but is headquartered in Halifax, Nova Scotia."

"I'll have the lager, then. Anything on the menu you'd recommend to go with it?"

"Hmm…let me fill those drink orders, and I'll be right back with my two cents." She gave them both a genuine smile and strolled into the next room towards the bar.

Shepard stared at the view of Vanier Park for a few moments and then broke the silence. "I'd say that this is romantic, sir, but…"

"Yeah, that's a little…awkward. How about we just say that we both enjoy the vista instead?"

"Sounds good; when our drinks get here, I'll make a toast to that."

"And to your new promotion," Anderson agreed and lifted his water up to his lips to drink. When he finished, he set the goblet back down. "Now, Lieutenant, I think we should talk man to man."

"Sir, didn't you say that…well…never mind," Shepard shrugged and placed the serviette into his lap. "What did you want to talk about?"

"You, son. I know that you've physically got yourself all together, but you just lost yet another relative and also got burned by a woman all in less than a week's time. You've got to be hurting, and I don't want to see those emotions bottle up inside of you and explode."

Shepard's eyes went from his superior's to English bay as did his head.

"I'm concerned about you is all," Anderson went on. "Have you talked to anyone about all this?"

Again, Anderson was met with a taciturn response; this time Shepard did look at him, though. "Look, this is weird, I know, coming from your CO. But I don't want to see you wash out or do something rash on the battlefield because of all these things are eating away at you. I'm here to talk off the record, Shepard; tonight anything goes."

Michelle brought their drinks back, and they ordered. After Shepard had consumed about half of his first bottle of beer, he sighed and ran a finger over the empty place setting in front of himself. "Okay, sir, off the record?"

"You bet, Shepard," Anderson nodded a 'yes'.

"Can I ask if you've ever lost someone close to you, I mean, besides that partner of yours and probably your parents, right?"

"Actually, both of my parents are still alive and are doing well back on Earth." Anderson took a sip of his drink and set it back onto the table. "But, I had a wife once."

"What happened to her?" Shepard's fingers went to play with the spoon.

"Well, let's just say that sometimes the men aren't the only ones to play around while on tour." Anderson took a large gulp of his scotch. "By the time I came back home on furlough, she was gone from the house. The only thing that she left was my recliner and a stack of papers this thick on the kitchen table from a lawyer." He held up his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart to illustrate his point.

"Filed for divorce, huh? Sorry, sir. Was it bad, I mean…did she try to take you to the cleaners?" The spoon now jerked spasmodically up and down as well as from side to side upon the linen tablecloth.

"I'm still paying her alimony every month," Anderson grunted. "No pre-nup agreement; I was such a goddamned fool who was head over heels in love at the time."

"That's bullshit. Uh, sir." The spoon suddenly fell out of his control and fell onto the floor about a foot away from the table. As Shepard bent down to pick it up, he felt someone brush by him. He reclaimed the spoon, set it near the edge away from his place setting, and watched with complete fascination at the woman who had just bumped into him. "Sorry," was all he could come up with.

"No harm done," the brunette replied, making complete eye contact with him, but then quickly followed the man in front of her to her own table. It was about fifteen feet away from Shepard and Anderson's. The captain went on with his unfortunate tale.

Thankfully, she chose to sit facing Shepard, and her companion had his back to Shepard. Her slate blue eyes stared at a wine list, which Shepard thought was odd; her companion had brought a bottle with him already. Shepard was not the greatest judge of character, but he knew that he liked what he saw on the outside already. This was a confident woman who probably put business first always and self second.

She wore a black and white suit that had honeycomb patterns upon it; the outfit covered her entire body. Well, it covered most of her body, except for the bust line and the fingers. Her skin was a fair alabaster, which was an extremely rare find, as were blue eyes. Those were recessive genetic traits; most humans now had darker tones of skin.

He unconsciously licked his lips as his thoughts darkened. _Damn. I wonder what she does; I don't think that I'd be able to focus very well on anything during a meeting but those two damned enticing-_

"Shepard? Son? Hello?" Anderson's voice snapped him back to reality. He waived his hand in front of his underling's face, and Shepard shook his head from side to side erratically.

"Sorry, sir. What were you talking about?" he sheepishly grinned.

"Cynthia." Anderson sighed and finished his drink. "Never mind." He turned his head to try and see who on earth could possibly distract Shepard like that among the throng of patrons in the restaurant. There were several attractive young women in the place, but he did not single Shepard's eye candy out. "Are you fishing again, Shepard?"

"Not on purpose, no."

"Hmm, well, it can't hurt to cast out the old net again-just be careful. There was a woman I…well, it wasn't too long after Cynthia that I became involved with. She was kind of a rebound, I guess."

"Relationships are sure complex, aren't they, sir?"

Their server came back with their food as well as a replacement for Shepard's fallen spoon and was off without a word. "Damn straight, they are. You know…we wanted to…go further but, well…let's just say that we're on a friendly basis now."

"So you didn't-"

"No, Lieutenant, we didn't." Anderson's eyes told him that he was entering dangerous territory that was edging upon the borders of propriety. "I met her on a mission, and everything stayed professional."

"Yeah, I should've done the same thing." Shepard shook his head. "Celeste was…a bit too friendly now that I think of it. Did you see it coming?"

"Which part, Shepard?"

"The fact that the bitch wasn't a one way street." That sentence spat out like venom from a spider's fangs, and Shepard shoved a forkful of meat into his mouth after he cut it. "Or the fact that she wasn't in the least bit sorry about it."

"I was pissed off, too, but no, I didn't see that one coming from a mile away." Anderson picked up his knife and began to cut into his own meat.

"Well, I'm never gonna hook up with one of those aliens again," Shepard huffed and consumed some more beer. "Or if I do, she won't be anything much more than a fling. Those Asari have really long lives, don't they?"

"That they do, Shepard. But understand this, son; you shouldn't be so quick to judge their species by just one individual's actions. Most of them that I've met or interacted with are quite reserved with approaching relationships…with any species, not just ours."

As Anderson droned on about the various alien races he'd met or come into contact, Shepard's eyes wandered towards Miranda Lawson's table again. Their bottle of wine lay in an ice bucket; she seemed to be sharing a very deep conversation with her date. The guy was wearing a similar outfit to the man who had given him that sales pitch as well as the paper business card, but from this angle, he could not be positive about identifying him. His hair was also styled in the same manner. But Shepard spent enough time worrying about him; he was much more interested in the person he could actually gaze upon. Who is the mysteriously beautiful and elegant woman that doesn't seem to smile very much?

_She looks familiar, too; have I seen her somewhere before? _he wondered. _Hell, those lips are amazing. Oh crap; she's seen me staring. Smooth work, Ace._ _Look back at Anderson now so that you can reclaim at least one shred of your dignity._

With that, Shepard returned his attention to his superior. Thankfully, Anderson had just finished his monologue, and Shepard dived in for the catch. "Do you know if the Alliance has any…" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "black ops?"

"Well, Shepard, like many governmental organizations, the Alliance has many clandestine things going on that even soldiers like us don't see or don't know about." Anderson shoved some peas onto his fork with his knife and lifted them up to his mouth. "Why do you ask?"

Shepard shrugged casually. "Just wondering."

After Anderson successfully shoved the fork into his mouth, he chewed upon them pensively. "Wait a minute. Was that what you meant about earlier when I asked who that man was that was talking to you? You called him a salesman."

He dug the business card out of his pocket and eyed the embossed printing. "Maybe. I think I'd call him a mountebank now that I think of it."

"Does that card have his number?"

"No, it's an address and time." The Alliance soldier flipped it around and held it closer for Anderson's inspection. The captain merely glanced at it and went on with his meal.

"Do you plan to make a follow up with that sales pitch?"

"We'll see," Shepard replied vaguely and pocketed the card again. He also now began to concentrate upon his dinner but had noticed that for the last few moments of his conversation, the mysterious brunette had been watching him the entire time. _She must have noticed the card, too_, Shepard thought.

But now that neither of them spoke, her attention went back to her date. _I'd almost consider going over there and trying to pick her up if it weren't for him._

"Before I completely forget, sir….thank you for dinner."

"I was hoping that you wouldn't say a lovely evening or else I'd really have to question how strong that scotch was," Anderson joked.

**A/N**-Okay, this was a very difficult chapter for me to write. I've been to Vancouver, B.C. but not to Bridges' Restaurant. I've seen it but never had the chance to go eat there. The menu looks absolutely delicious as does the vista (check out the website online if you can). At first I was just going to have Anderson and Shepard eat there, but then, the little devil's advocate spoke up and said 'psst, include this or else'. So, sorry, they didn't actually speak (Shepard and Miranda, I mean), but there were many long gazes from afar. I may address this in later novels to come. Secondly, as you might have noticed, this is not the first time I've mentioned the beer Alexander Keith's. If you're able to purchase it and like beer, BUY! A.K. by far surpasses ANY American beer that I've ever tasted, and I did visit that factory in Halifax...not that I can remember too much of the end. Also, I have no idea what Cloudy Bay tastes like, but I just read the description, and it sounded like a really nice summer wine, clean and crisp. I was also going to have Shepard throw the card out in the trash after he had his talk with Anderson at the end of this chapter but decided to leave it open instead. Did he ever have that meeting with Charon or not? Hmm...

Anyway, thanks for reading so far. Reviews are always treasured.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Moon of Torfan, Orbit of Elysium, Arcturus System

February 17th, 2179, 1828h

"Shit, LT, it's fuckin' cold, " Corporal Beckett shivered as he and Shepard made their way through the snow that was nearly two feet deep on the moon. "Why'd you have to pick now to do this? Couldn't you have waited until May when the snow's all gone?"

"Because I owe it to my unit," Shepard turned his head around to look at his friend. "And you didn't have to come with me, you know."

"That conversation was almost a guilt trip if I ever heard one, sir. Pardon me for calling you out on your bullshit."

Shepard glanced at his omni-tool. "Have no fear, Corporal, we're nearly there. Just about another mile or so."

"Another mile? My goddamned balls are about to-" Beckett glanced upward from his armor and upon his superior's face. He was desperately trying to hold back a bout of laughter.

"I had you, didn't I?" Shepard teased.

"Hook, line, and sinker, sir," Beckett sighed. "Your humor's taken a turn for the worse in the last two months."

"The bunker should just be over that ridge." He pointed about three hundred feet in front of them. "And maybe you should invest in some heat conduits for your armor with your next couple of paychecks, Beckett, you know, so that your balls won't freeze off." They kept to their journey.

"Did Anderson say where our next mission's gonna take us?"

"Nope. I just know that we're required to report back to Arcturus Station tomorrow at 0900 hours, and we'll meet up with the Hong Kong there. I hear that we're getting a new doc for this tour…think she's from Earth or something."

"No kidding. Do you know where?"

"England, I think, but I'm not positive." Shepard let out a disdainful snort. "I normally don't make a habit of going to the med bay for making social calls."

"What's her name?"

"Starts with a C. Hmm, wait a minute." He knocked his fist onto the side of his helmet as he tried to remember it. "Chaplin, Church, Charm, Chick…Chakwas. Yeah, that's it-Chakwas."

"Maybe you might break in a new habit; I've met British people before, and they've got a _really_ great sense of humor, sir." Beckett paused to change to a new topic. "Hey, did you hear about that ship that exploded over Ferris Fields a couple of months ago?"

"Yeah…it just so happened to not only have a ten ton drive core made of eezo and be carrying about three or four non-refined tons of it in its cargo bay. Completely coincidental over a_ human_ colony in the Terminus systems," he huffed sardonically. "Whoever did that knew that the Alliance wouldn't bother to send over an investigation team to figure out what went wrong with the merchant ship. Smart."

"Do you mean to say that you admire what either this person or group of people did?"

"How else do you create human biotics? It's not like they'll ever get parents to sign off on intentional exposure."

"But whatever these people are doing isn't just doing that, they're also creating-"

"About a three hundred percent increased risk for cancer or brain tumors? No shit, Corporal." Shepard suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to face his friend. "They're completely wrong. But what the hell can you or I do about it?"

"Well, it'd be nice if the Alliance could get their asses in gear and try to do something about it," Beckett said with a shrug.

"We've got bigger fish to fry, I guess. Good, here we are. What the hell?" As they came to the bunker where Shepard had scarified his squad, they heard the noise of heavy machinery as well as tools for construction.

There was no snow around the construction site, which was about two hundred feet away from the bunker. "I'm guessing you didn't know about this," Beckett stated as they made their way towards the site. "Neither did I, though, sir."

Shepard approached a man who could possibly pass for being the foreman and held up a hand to attract his attention. He nodded and traveled over to the soldiers. "Ah, Lieutenant Shepard. It's an honor," the man said and stuck a hand out to greet him.

"What's going on here?" Shepard inquired and returned the handshake.

"Didn't you hear about the project?" After both marines shook their heads 'no', the man continued. "Well, it's created a bit of a stir in the political community, especially with the Batarians. But what the hell, they closed down their embassies…"

"What has?" Beckett pressed.

"The Alliance is making a monument to you here, Shepard. It's gonna be a big old statue with a flame that'll run 24/7 to commemorate your actions from last year."

Shepard took a step back with surprise and reached into one of his ammunition pouches upon his weapon belt. It was a chain with all of the dog tags that belonged to his unit. He stared at them for a good long minute and then looked up to the foreman. "Are you all planning on removing that bunker, too?" he pointed with his thumb behind himself.

"Well…-"

"If you need the land for the monument, then can I ask a favor, please? Could you please see that these are all put around the neck or maybe make some kind of plaques right near the statue?" He held up the chain and gave it to the foreman. "These were the men and women who served with me on that tour."

"Um, well, I can certainly bring it up to my boss, Lieutenant Shepard. But I promise you that we'll treat these with the ultimate respect." He bowed his head and began to take a look at each of the names. "Will it be all right with you if I return to my work now?"

"Sure. Thanks for your time," Shepard nodded politely. He turned to Beckett. "Come on, let's head back to the transport station."

"Wow. How do you feel about having a monument erected in your honor, sir?"

"I'd rather that they just honor my squad's lives instead." He shook his head, and they started to trudge back through the snow to their destination.

"So, sir, what're you gonna do with all that extra money that you'll be making each month? Your pay's increased, too, right?"

"It'd be nice if I could buy some land to call my own. I'm not sure if I'll build a house or a farm or what on it, but I'd like to own more than just some weapons, armor, and a couple of bank accounts."

"How about New Canton? It's a brand new colony like Ferris Fields out in the Terminus systems and is even less developed. You might be able to get some land for a bargain since there's not much out there."

"What's the weather like?"

"I'd stop and look on the extranet except that I don't think that I'd be able to find a decent connection or stop my ass from freezing in the process. Sir."

"Relax with the sirs, Beckett. We're good enough friends now that I don't give a rat's ass about protocol, out here at least. But when we get back to the Hong Kong again, during the missions and all…-"

"Understood, Shepard. Hey, my cousin might be able to lend you a hand with your search for land," Beckett offered. "He's a real estate broker."

"Where might I find his office?"

"Office, shmoffice." Beckett waved his hand dismissively around. "You don't have to have an office to be a real estate agent. He works out of his home, back on Demeter, in the local cluster. It's right near the Charon relay."

"How well do you know him?"

"Well enough that we could stay at his house for free. What do you say?"

"Is there anything else to do on the colony?"

"There's a huge library there filled with a bunch of old human texts. If I remember my history correctly, they sent a crap load of the stuff there not too long after we founded Lowell City on Mars. I think that they were worried about nuclear war breaking out in between several countries on Earth and wanted to plan around it just in case."

"Uh-huh, and what else? Sports?"

"Ah, I'm not sure about that," Beckett said with a shrug. "But they also do have an unbelievably talented orchestra there…ooh, and an opera house with phenomenal acoustics. Oh yeah, there's lots of shit to do there, Shepard."

Shepard's eyes rolled. "Maybe for your interests."

"Remember what I said about culture and intelligent conversation?"

"Yeah, that did me a _whole_ lotta good with the last woman I dated. Remember the other guy she was screwing? W.F. Sanders the neanderthal?"

"Come on, man. You'll find the right woman…someday. Or maybe she'll find you first."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing. It just seems like you might favor a woman who's confident. Your last selection suggests that; you didn't describe her as the type to just lie flat on her back and scream out your name."

An image of the enigmatic dark haired beauty he had been longingly gaping at while in Bridges restaurant in Vancouver suddenly came into his mind.

"No, she certainly didn't, you're right." A tiny smirk crept across his face. "Spread the word, Beckett, and you're a dead man."

"What? I can't help a friend out?"

"Like you said, Beckett…she just might find me someday. Until then, I'll just have to make do with those training vids. Thinking about those might take away the numbness that's been settling in my legs for the last half an hour." He sighed and activated his omni-tool for his GPS. "Only another ten minutes 'til we get there."

THE END

**A/N**-First off, I'd like to make a public acknowledgment thanking LeeneSR2 with her tremendous help and being my second pair of eyes throughout this entire novel. Secondly, I hope this ending didn't anger anyone, but I honestly didn't know where to go from here without making another mission, which I did not feel was necessary. Thirdly, thank you to everyone who's been reading and writing reviews. Even if you hated the story, let me know (and then please tell me why). Fourthly, my next contribution to this website will be a series of vignettes that take place during my novel "Subjugation". They will likely occur mostly on the Citadel right before the Cronos mission, and thankfully, that is why I didn't put any specific dates on my legends. Any ideas for scenes would be welcomed. I've got three written already: the first is a chat between Miranda and Jacob; the second is a talk in between Liara and Miranda; lastly, the third is a date between Shepard and Miranda. Yeah, a REAL date, not an apologetic conversation and make up sex afterwards. Thanks


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